Mission: Intolerable
by Luigiflipping
Summary: (An Agent AU based on jamsandhams's tumblr) Slow burn Jamilton. Secret agents Hamilton and Jefferson learn to trust each other, and uncover a sinister organization calling themselves Kingsmen. Along the way, they learn that their partnership may be more than they originally planned.
1. Chapter 1

The smell of macaroni drifted into the near-empty break room. Jefferson stopped a few feet from the door, and rested some of his weight on the gold handle of his cane. There was one other person in the room. The last person Jefferson wanted to see. Hamilton. He was leaning back against the round table, and stared at Jefferson as if expecting to meet there. As with previous days, there was distrust and hostility in Hamilton's dark eyes, which told Jefferson that Hamilton still hadn't accepted that the two of them would soon be embarking on missions as a team.

"Macaroni?" Hamilton said, infusing the innocent word with as much judgment as possible. "Really?"

A glance around told Jefferson that Hamilton was not there with lunch. "It's better than nothing."

"Why would I waste time on eating when there's work to be done? You clearly don't know how we operate around here," Hamilton shot back.

Jefferson took a few steps closer to emphasize their height difference, and Hamilton stood up as tall as he was naturally able. "Look," Jefferson said, with a sigh. "In my short time here, I have met everyone here around lunch time."

"So?"

"Everyone takes a lunch break but you. If you gave a rat's ass about your team, you'd know that much."

Hamilton lifted his head higher, scowling. "Don't lecture me about my team, at least my team is still alive!"

Every day, Hamilton had made some kind of similar remark. Every day, Jefferson acted like it didn't bother him. Every day, Jefferson wondered why he didn't see it coming. Today, he had had enough. "Don't act like you're the reason they're alive!" Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy had quickly invited him to feel like they were his new family. "They're the ones working to make sure your sorry ass survives every mission!" Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan had invited him to get a drink sometime. "They don't get paid to put up with you, they chose to on their own. The least you can do give them the credit they deserve. You're only successful because of them."

In the brief moment Hamilton was forming a response, Jefferson gripped his cane tighter and turned to leave. Hamilton called after him, "I would have died before I let someone kill anyone in this building! The fact that you're alive shows just how much you didn't care!"

As Jefferson passed through the doorway, Burr stood aside to let him through, before entering himself, with a raised eyebrow. "I see you're getting along as well as ever," he noted, before taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah, well, he isn't exactly making it easy."

"Neither are you. I keep saying, if you talked less and smiled more, you could learn to get along."

That earned Burr an eyeroll. "I don't care. Inviting him to work here was a mistake."

Burr set his coffee mug down on the counter. "Washington doesn't do things without thinking. He's not about to change his mind either. You're just going to have to learn to get along."

"I'll get along with him when he gives me a reason to," Hamilton said, leaning on the table again.

"You have a chance to do the right thing. If you take it, it would be a good place to start." The disbelieving stare Burr got back prompted him to continue. "If you go apologize and admit that you were out of line, I'm sure he'd be more open to a respectful conversation."

"I don't need to apologize. I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

Burr crossed his arms and put on his smile of tested patience. "Regardless, he's going through a lot. How would you feel if you were the only one to survive an attack on this office?"

"I wouldn't let that happen," Hamilton said stubbornly.

With a sigh, Burr picked up his coffee. "Of course," he said. "Just try to talk to him. You're partners whether you like it or not."

Hamilton paced through the different levels of the office, searching for the poofy hair or magenta suit that belonged to Thomas Jefferson. He found Maddison, the only other person left from Jefferson's old agency, but Jefferson was not there. He found Lafayette and Peggy discussing the newest lead, but no Jefferson. Angelica stopped him for a minute to hear about the search, but she hadn't seen him for a while. Muttering about how hard Jefferson had made it to find him, Hamilton made his way to the basement below ground level, where there was a shooting range. The range was silent, without a single sound to be heard. Hamilton glanced through the space, finding that the range's silence was for good reason. It was empty. Everyone was encouraging him to get along with Jefferson, but he couldn't do that if he couldn't find him.

Finally giving up, Hamilton rode the elevator up to the office space, and made his way to his desk to use his time in a better way. As he passed Jefferson's on the way to his own, the bright color of Jefferson's jacket on the back of his chair caught his eye like it always did. Hamilton noticed that the chair was occupied by the jacket's owner. He stopped and took a step back, and leaned on the short cubicle divider. He had searched the whole building, and here Jefferson was, at his desk with his head in his hand, staring at the documents in front of him. At his elbow, the macaroni sat, almost untouched.

At a lack of what do say, Hamilton said the first thing that came to mind. "I don't think staring a hole into those papers is going to help."

Jefferson sighed and turned his head slightly. "You're the last person I want to deal with right now. Can we go back to ignoring each other?"

Contrary to popular joking belief, Hamilton was not stupid. He could tell that, as happened on rare occasions, Burr had been right. Hamilton couldn't argue about Jefferson's request, so he did go back to ignoring him.

The weekend passed, and Jefferson seemed to be settling into the new building. Each day, it became more common to see him with a little smile as he greeted the others. Hamilton kept their interactions to a minimum. Tuesday afternoon, he got a group text from Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan, suggesting that the four of them take the two newcomers out for drinks to celebrate the first week of being there. The others in the chat quickly agreed, and asked Hamilton to tell Jefferson, while Laurens asked Maddison. Not one to pass up the chance to go drinking with the group, Hamilton saw he had little choice.

He leaned back in his chair and scooted it back a few inches, so he could see around the divider that separated their workspaces. Jefferson seemed only slightly busy. Hamilton didn't feel that bad about interrupting. "Hey. Jefferson."

"Hm?"

"A few of us are going out after work." For such a simple question, it seemed hard to ask. "They want to know if you'd wanna come with."

Jefferson looked over at him, surprised. "Well, who all will be there?"

"Me, Laurens, Mulligan, Lafayette… They're asking Maddison too."

As he expected, Jefferson seemed more interested when his friend was mentioned. "I see more than enough of you during the day. I suppose if James is going, I may as well."

With that said, Jefferson turned back to his work, and Hamilton slid his chair forward, to tell the group Jefferson's condition. To their luck, Maddison had agreed right away.

At the end of the day, Hamilton waited as Jefferson put on his jacket and grabbed his cane. They said nothing as they went downstairs, and met the rest of their group by the door. Hamilton was quick to join the conversation, and took the lead as they walked through downtown to the nearest bar. Jefferson and Maddison followed the four increasingly rowdy friends, catching up as they tried to keep up with their walking pace.

With a table secured for the six of them, Jefferson and Maddison melded into the heated discussion of politics. The arrival of the first round of drinks thankfully silenced what was quickly becoming a more and more hostile debate.

To further diffuse the situation, Laurens offered a toast to the completion of Jefferson and Maddison's first week, to which they all drank. He then asked how Jefferson and Maddison had met, which lead to trading stories about missions and mission related work. They shared how they got into their unusual field. Mulligan had always taken an interest in secret codes, which lead him to recruitment. Lafayette had once been a double agent in France, and after an incident he wouldn't talk about, was fired and then found by Hamilton and Mulligan, who later went home and mentioned him to Washington. Laurens had gone through the training to be a field agent, but had been injured on his first time out, and so agreed to take a more supportive job. Maddison had studied forensic science and had taken extensive medical classes as well. Hamilton had been determined to make it as soon as he found out such a job existed, and had started earlier than most were allowed to. Jefferson became interested when he learned about Maddison being recruited from college, and Maddison had helped put in a good word for him.

Lafayette's burning curiosity couldn't be contained. "Hey, Jefferson, why do you carry a cane anyway?"

Jefferson brushed the question off, saying, "It belonged to a relative of mine." To his relief, the others didn't question this response.

An hour later, Hamilton had to go to catch the bus to the other side of town, and Laurens went with him. With the two most rambunctious voices gone, their table was considerably calmer. It wasn't long before the conversation turned to hushed whispers about work, and work meant talking about the incident that lead Jefferson and Maddison to be working under Washington. Just over two weeks ago, the agency that the two called home was attacked. Jefferson was left to die, but was found by rescue crews after the building had been set on fire. Maddison had been out that day due to illness. ("He really does get sick a lot," Jefferson said, rather fondly.) When he had heard the news, Washington reached out to the two, and offered them a place among his ranks in return for helping investigate. Part of their current objectives was figuring out who had instigated the attack, partly to ensure that it didn't happen again. The secret of how it happened had been revealed; there had been a hacker involved, who had found their way into the system, and had been a major player in the attack itself, shutting down many of the security measures in place for such an incident. As soon as the hacker was tracked down, there would be a breakthrough in the investigation, and perhaps a counterstrike could be organized.

To lighten the mood, Mulligan asked if Jefferson and Maddison were in relationships, and then smirked as he asked if they wanted one, gesturing with his beer at a group of ladies that just walked in. Since Maddison grew a little quiet, Jefferson said that he, for one, would be leaving. Maddison stood to follow, so they paid their tabs and left the last two to plan the best way to get the girls' attention.

The next day, as Hamilton and Jefferson were working, a buzz of excitement found its way upstairs to them. The buzz was in the form of Peggy and Lafayette, with an excited Eliza, Laurens, and Maddison following them. As they approached, whispering to each other, Hamilton stood up to see over the cubicle dividers. They smiled at him and waved as they came over, and stood between the desks of the two. Getting the hint, Jefferson turned his chair around as Hamilton leaned against the dividers.

"We have some exciting news," Lafayette said, and exchanged a grin with Peggy.

As if it were a cue, Peggy looked from Hamilton to Jefferson. She stayed silent for another moment, before bursting out, "We got a lead on the hacker!"

A mischievous smirk crept onto Hamilton's face. "One step closer to an actual mission. I can't wait to get back out there."

As if the meaning finally caught up to him, Jefferson stood up, looking between Lafayette and Maddison. "You mean…?"

Maddison nodded. "Yes. The hacker from our case."

For perhaps the first time, Jefferson showed a full smile. He grabbed Maddison in a short hug, and then turned to Lafayette. "So there's progress?"

"As soon as we figured out how to track him, we got as much information as we could." Lafayette looked back to Peggy, who held up a USB stick. "If things go well, we could find his employers within the next week."

"I told you, the hacker has to be a woman, I've never seen a man organize his code like that," Peggy argued, elbowing Lafayette.

He leaned down a little with a warm smile as he teased, "Just because you haven't seen it doesn't mean that it doesn't exist, and statistically speaking, a man is more likely."

Impatiently, Hamilton cut in, "Does Washington know? The sooner we start planning, the better."

A little bit embarrassed, Peggy told him, "We wanted to tell Maddison and Jefferson first."

"Then let's go," Hamilton urged. "They both know. The sooner Washington knows, the better!"

With Hamilton leading the way, the group made its way across the floor to Washington's office, and Hamilton knocked on the door. When they were told to enter, they did, and Peggy handed Washington the USB as they told him about their breakthrough. Washington praised their diligence, and gave them all a smile as he told them to go and keep up the good work.

That day, Peggy and Lafayette sorted through what they had found, and found what they were hoping for; a small key that would lead them back the code's path to its source. As the evening approached, they found a location. The last location they expected. The two shared a nervous glance and rechecked themselves. Once again, they found the same result. Lafayette sprinted upstairs to deliver the information personally to Washington. They had traced the code back to their own building.

Washington called for an immediate lockdown, to last until everyone had been questioned. Jefferson and Maddison were not to know. One by one, everyone was brought to be questioned by Washington. Being on the same floor, Jefferson noticed the pattern, and tried to figure out what it meant. When Hamilton was told to go as well, Jefferson gave it a minute before taking his cane and going for a walk around the floor, which conveniently took him past Washington's office. He slowed down and passed by as close as he dared. A quick glance around told him that no one was watching, so he stopped and slowly leaned his ear against the door. Washington's smooth voice was hard to make sense of, though a few of Hamilton's words cut enough to be heard. Words including 'hack', 'can't', and 'how'. Jefferson didn't dare to linger a moment longer, and finished his circuit, sitting down with the resolution to ask Hamilton what they talked about.

Hamilton sat down unsuspectingly. The next moment, Jefferson pushed his chair back to see around their barrier. "Hamilton. What was that about?"

"Nothing," he said smoothly, and glanced back at the intensely staring face of his longtime rival.

"It's not nothing. He's been calling in just about everyone. Is it about that lead?"

"Even if it was, I couldn't tell you."

"Hamilton, if it relates to the case, I have a right to know."

Hamilton glanced away from him, and unsettled himself by thinking of what Burr might do. "Alright, but you didn't hear it from me." Jefferson scooted a little closer, and Hamilton rolled back to talk more quietly. "Lafayette and Peggy went back and started trying to find where the hacker was. They said it came through here."

As Hamilton expected, Jefferson was furious. "What? Are you serious?"

"Washington has the building on lockdown, no one gets in or out until we figure this out."

"And to think I was starting to like it here!"

Hamilton glanced behind them, and kept his voice down. "There's no way it was someone here, we all know Peggy would have figured it out, the investigation is just a formality."

"Just a formality my ass, were you the one who lit the damn fire?"

"No, Jesus, didn't you hear me? No one here is stupid enough to be so obvious, it has to be a setup!"

Jefferson pushed his chair back to his desk, and grabbed his cane. "This whole thing is a ruse to get us to lower our guard and finish the job, isn't it?"

"Not everything is about you!" Hamilton spat, ready to stand up and fight at a moment's notice. "This whole time, we have only acted in self-preservation. If someone is attacking agencies, we need to figure out who it is and what they can do, so that we don't all die too. None of this has been about you! Washington brought you here to get a witness's account as to what we could be dealing with. We're investigating your incident in case we could be next, not because we feel bad for you! So just shut up and let Peggy do her job, so that we don't have to die like all of your old so called friends."

Hamilton stared Jefferson down for a moment more, and was pleased that he had been rendered speechless. Hamilton scooted his chair back to his desk and pretended to refocus, though his attention was fixed on detecting evidence of a possible retaliation. He heard nothing but the sound of the ventilation system. Then, Jefferson's calm voice cut through the air.

"You're worried you'll be left behind like I was."

Hamilton said nothing, and dropped his eyes to his keyboard.

"The worst part is knowing that since you had some life left, there was some fight left that you didn't give. That if you had really tried, you could have done more, but it's way too late now. I wouldn't even wish this on the person I despised most." There was a pause. A hesitation? "That includes you, by the way."

Hamilton allowed himself to smile a little sarcastic smile. "I'm delighted you think so highly of me."

Once again, the only sound to be heard was the air moving through the room. There was the faint sound of Jefferson's chair wheels, and then near silence once more.

As the evening passed on, the two ran out of things to do. There already wasn't much two field agents could help with around the home base, and before long, they were left waiting for the all clear to go home. Everyone had been questioned, and Washington had gone down to work more closely with Peggy and Lafayette, as they tried to find the evidence that the hacker had set up a red herring.

In this time, Hamilton and Jefferson hadn't moved, nor had they said anything since sharing a moment through the barrier. Jefferson silently reminded himself that his mother would have wanted him to give people the benefit of the doubt, and he watched his hands as he passed his cane back and forth between them. He had started counting for a while, but even that became dull. Minutes seemed to creep by, each second going on endlessly. Suddenly, Hamilton stood up, and Jefferson watched as he strode out of their area, running his fingers through his long hair.

"What's the matter, getting impatient?" Jefferson asked with a little smirk.

"They'll figure it out. I just can't sit here doing nothing anymore." He stopped, dropping his hands, and turned his head back a little. "I'm going to shoot off a few rounds downstairs."

When Hamilton didn't take off right away, Jefferson raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that an invitation to share your delightful company?"

"More like an invitation to get your ass kicked, I could out shoot you any day," Hamilton said stubbornly, not looking back.

A grin crept onto Jefferson's face as he stood up. "I'm not threatened by you, you couldn't hit a moving target if it was five feet in front of you."

Hamilton turned with a challenging smirk. "I can kill with a bow and arrow more effectively than you can with a gun."

"Clearly I'll need to introduce you to my 9mm." Jefferson lifted his suit jacket from the back of his chair and draped it over his arm.

Hamilton waited as Jefferson caught up, and the two started towards the elevator. On the fairly short ride down, Jefferson showed Hamilton the concealed carry in his jacket, and Hamilton in turn showed his, on his hip beneath his untucked shirt.

As they stepped into the empty firing range, they were bragging about their most impressive feats of gunmanship. The two selected identical guns from the cases on the wall, and loaded their cartridges, setting up a few rules for their competition. When their earmuffs were securely on, they filled the range with their deafening gunshots until their cartridges were empty, whereupon they went to check out their targets up close, and assign a number score to each shot based on how far away it was from the center of the target's chest. Hamilton, not content to stop after losing the first set, demanded a rematch on a higher caliber. They stepped it up, using fewer rounds to score from, and then did one final gun, with only one shot to succeed.

Hamilton took this shot with care. He let Jefferson shoot before him, and knew that he had a fairly good chance at winning their competition with two out of three. Just as he was set to pull the trigger, he felt something touch his ankle, and it surprised him just enough to make him miss. Furious, he spun around and saw Jefferson, who was looking around as if he were completely unaware of what was happening, both hands on his cane, in the pose of some kind of dandy. His innocent act was clearly so, because he looked sideways to meet eyes with Hamilton, a sly smile turning up the corner of his lips. Hamilton instinctively reached for the safety on his gun, but then stopped, and instead uncovered one of his ears. "I demand another shot, interfering isn't allowed!"

Jefferson watched him, but didn't remove his earmuffs. Instead, he leaned over a little, putting a cupped hand by his ear, loudly saying, "What was that? I can't hear you!"

That told Hamilton all he needed to know. He went to load in another round. As he passed by Jefferson to his lane, he casually kicked the bottom of his cane, making Jefferson fall a little as it slid on the hard floor. A little smug, he took his shot. This time, Hamilton was not interrupted. Even from a distance, it was clear that Hamilton had been closer to the small crosshairs that indicated the center of the target's chest.

With their guns properly put away, Hamilton gloated once more about how even with the distraction of Jefferson undermining him, he was a better shot. As the elevator doors closed, he said, "It looks like I've more than proven my case for being in charge on whatever field missions we're sent on."

"Being a little more accurate with a wider range of guns doesn't mean you're clever enough to take the lead," Jefferson reminded him as the elevator started carrying them up.

"Maybe not, but it means I would be able to actually kill some of my attackers, unlike you."

The smile slid right off of Jefferson's face, his eyes fixed straight ahead. "That's low, even for you."

Hamilton glanced sideways at him and straightened up a little more. He hadn't actually intended to make another sleight at the incident that had brought Jefferson to their agency, but he was not about to apologize.

Thankfully, they were left with only a few more seconds of awkward silence, before the elevator doors opened, and the two were met by a smiling Angelica. "There you two are," she said, stepping aside to let them come out. "We've been looking for you. Peggy found our proof, whoever the hacker was, they made it look like it was someone here, but the trail goes through another agency."

"That's great news, I did tell you that it couldn't have been someone here," Hamilton said, turning back to Jefferson as he stepped out of the elevator.

Jefferson already wore a small smile again. "Yeah yeah, another victory for mister know-it-all," he said with an eyeroll.

"I'm on my way out," Angelica told them. "You should check in with Washington before you go, so he knows you've heard."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," Hamilton said as she passed them. He then turned to Jefferson as the elevator closed once more. "You heard her, I'm sure you'll get all the details you want now that the investigation is over."

Finding Washington wasn't hard. He was still with Peggy and Lafayette. Maddison and Laurens were talking with them, coats in hand. All the others, it seemed, had left. Washington was glad to see them, and gave them an official dismissal for the night. Peggy and Lafayette, he told them, had volunteered to stay even later to keep their investigation going, so that perhaps by the next day, they might have their source, ahead of schedule. Laurens cut in and told Hamilton that they could catch the next bus if they hurried, and the two were gone.

Washington took a moment to assure Maddison and Jefferson that things were going well, and that they would soon get their justice. Jefferson assured him right back that it was more important that they prevent such a thing from happening again, and that anything they could do to help, they would.

As they walked through the cool night, taking an easy pace along the sidewalk to their parking garage, Maddison looked up at his friend. Ever since they had first roomed together in college, he had come to know Jefferson quite well. After all, they had been the closest of friends for more than fifteen years. For this very reason, Maddison knew Jefferson's "acting tough" face. He even wore it as it was just them in the light of the streetlights and occasional open business. Staring straight ahead, the ghost of a faked smile, and putting more weight on his cane than usual. It was fairly clear what was on his mind.

"Did he make another remark about our old agency?"

Jefferson answered with a sigh. "You know me too well. I'm starting to think you have some psychic abilities you haven't told me about."

Maddison ignored the halfhearted joke. "You're sure you don't want to tell him what's on your mind? It never hurts to have more than one friend."

"I suppose I did tell him some. I already wish I hadn't. I should consider myself lucky he's still making jabs at it, and not trying to sympathize."

"Do I need to remind you that you promised to try getting along with our new coworkers? Part of that is learning how to let them into your life."

"If it means them feeling bad for me, then no thanks. I don't want their pity. There's enough of that as it is." Jefferson counted out the next reasons on his left hand. "I'm not fragile, I don't need looking out for, and I sure as hell don't need them to think that. And, considering how they're so quick to try to make friends, I don't see my actions as a problem."

"If things are truly going as well as Washington said they were, it'll all soon be over and forgotten about," Maddison patiently assured him.

To his relief, Jefferson's smile seemed to become more genuine. "That day can't come fast enough."

The next day, Jefferson reached his desk to see Hamilton already at his, with a fiery look in his eyes and a suspiciously large coffee in his hands. "Did you hear the latest?" he asked, jumping up as Jefferson approached.

"No, did they find the hacker?" he asked, resting his cane against his desk and taking off his jacket.

"Yes, but that isn't half of it, they also patched the hole in the system that the hacker used, and they think they know who to follow to lead us to the ones who ordered the attack!"

"Do they have a name?"

"Devorae. Johnathan Devorae."

Jefferson's brows furrowed as he considered the name, folding his jacket over his arm. "Johnathan Devorae… Why does that sound familiar?"

If it was even possible, Hamilton seemed to light up even more with interest. "You know him?"

"I think so. I can't quite place why." He looked at Hamilton more closely. "Why are you so excited? None of this has to do with you."

Hamilton snapped and pointed at him, an unstoppable grin on his face. "That's where you're wrong. Once we have the details, I get to finally go back onto the field again."

"Need I remind you that we'll have to put up with each other for an extended period of time when that happens?"

Ignoring him, Hamilton continued, "The counterstrike mission is soon enough that Washington is having you trained on our equipment today."

"Uh, okay?"

"That means now, come on!"

Jefferson barely had time to put his jacket down. Hamilton hurried him all the way to the floor below, where Angelica and Eliza were chatting in front of a long series of shelves and drawers, each labeled with the kind of technology they held. When they saw their visitors, the two ladies welcomed them with a smile.

"Did you pass by Mulligan on your way?" Angelica asked.

"We must have just missed him," Hamilton told her, eyes darting longingly to the locked boxes along the back wall. Eliza crossed her arms and stepped in Hamilton's line of sight.

Angelica explained, "He was just sent out to Devorae's apartment. Hopefully he'll have the cameras up before noon."

"In the meantime," Eliza cut in, "Jefferson, welcome to your first and hopefully last equipment training. I'm sure most of this will look familiar, but it never hurts to get a refresher course." She glanced at Hamilton, adding, "Now, if someone would excuse himself, we have quite a bit to cover."

"And miss the chance to spend more time with two of my three favorite women in the building?" Hamilton said smoothly, earning him two eye rolls from the women in question.

Taking charge, Angelica insisted, "You can stay only if you don't mess with anything, and keep your comments to yourself."

Just as Eliza had said, most of it was review of basic safety procedures. She and Angelica fitted Jefferson with his field equipment, including a handgun like he and Hamilton had shot the previous day, in a harness holster. Eliza also showed him the cameras that Mulligan was out planting in their suspect's apartment. Angelica, meanwhile, was busy shooing Hamilton away from the safe boxes he had been eyeing earlier. A simple question later, and Eliza told Jefferson that the secure boxes held their heavier duty arms, including a rifle and a sniper rifle, both to be taken out only in extreme circumstances.

Since there wasn't much to hurry back to, Jefferson didn't feel bad lingering there, telling Eliza about the kinds of tech he had worked with before. Angelica seemed to finally get Hamilton under control, because they joined the two a while later, and mused about what they would like to one day get, if the budget ever permitted. While they chatted, a small light flashed on the PC by the one wall not covered in shelves, and Eliza was there in an instant. Soon, they watched as a small square popped up on the black screen. At first, it didn't seem to be showing anything. The picture moved, and they saw their own Hercules Mulligan backing up, leaving the camera with a view from a corner of a room. They watched him move around the room, setting up a few more. As he did, new camera feeds showed up on the screen, until they had a nice grid of nine, each with different views of the small cluttered apartment. Mulligan passed through the various camera views until he reached the front door, and disappeared into the hallway.

Even after Hamilton had gone elsewhere, Jefferson lingered at the screen, searching the cameras for something familiar, some kind of sign to point to where he knew this man from. No such luck.

The next day, they had confirmation of Devorae's face, and an internet search told them that he was a simple tech worker, who specialized in setting up wireless file and printing systems for businesses. This explained the abundance of computer technology that was strewn about the apartment, but it did not explain anything else.

Between searching through the information they had, Hamilton and Jefferson suggested explanations back and forth when a possibility came to mind. Hamilton's were much more frequent, and often seemed too ridiculous or complicated to be realistic. The day ended no nearer to a solution. On his drive home, however, Jefferson realized how he knew Devorae. As soon as he was parked, he called Maddison, and cut straight to the point.

"Do you remember about a year ago when we got one of those new printers?"

"Thomas, it's getting late, are you really calling me about some printers that were destroyed in a fire?"

"Forget that part, do you remember where we got it from?"

"No, I was out that week."

"James, I think we got it from the company Devorae works for. His name sounded familiar because I talked to him about where his name came from."

There was a pause. "Are you sure? That doesn't give him any reason to do anything with the rest of our actual network."

"Sure, but think about it, no one would suspect someone like that of any foul play, it's just like a method we might use if we were trying to get information on a whole company. He had a very convenient opportunity to poke around and see more than he was paid for."

As expected, this revelation was most welcome. Jefferson brought it right to Peggy when he got to the agency. Peggy took this information and ran with it, fleshing out Jefferson's suspicion with a full blown theory. Devorae must have recognized that someone in the world would pay good money for the kind of insider information he would have had, so he had gathered what he could about their security system, and had sold his services to someone with a bone to pick. Meaning, Devorae would need to be questioned about the one-time sale of information.

Much to Hamilton's disappointment, he was not allowed to take care of bringing him in. That job fell instead to Lafayette, Mulligan, and Burr. The three watched and waited a few days to determine their best opportunity. Devorae got on his usual bus to go home from work, Lafayette close behind him. As soon as he stepped off, Lafayette was right behind him, and acted like a hopelessly lost foreign sightseer, stopping him to ask for help with directions. Lafayette kept him distracted with questions as Burr brought their car close and Mulligan strategically bumped into him and sedated him. Lafayette and Mulligan quickly brought their target into the backseat. The three agents stayed most of the night as the agency to question Devorae, before carefully drugging him to forget, and returning him to his apartment.

Everyone was eager to hear what they had learned. The new information? Devorae truly didn't have any idea who he was paid by. He had done as Peggy thought, seeing the chance to make a considerable amount of money and going deep into the web to sell his information. He could tell them that he was offered more to shut their system down himself at a very specific time, but could otherwise tell them no more than his guilt and regret.

Back at their desks, Hamilton lamented that there would be no field mission for him after all. Jefferson listened, eyes staring blankly, and the ghost of a fake smile on his face. Maddison visited to see how they were doing. Washington noticed them both together and stopped by to assure them that they still had places on this team, and when Hamilton insisted, he assured him that he would get a mission soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

The inside of the van was almost silent. It usually was. The only thing to be heard was the low hum of the computers. The light of the screen filled the space with a glow which reached no further than the faces of Peggy and Lafayette. The two were almost shoulder to shoulder as they watched carefully, listening through headsets to hear what was going on. On the camera footage, they watched the two figures of Hamilton and Jefferson as they stood in the lobby of the expensive hotel. The two men were scanning the room, not talking to each other. Lafayette knew something felt off about them, but couldn't place what.

Suddenly, Hamilton took off without warning, striding towards the stairs that led to the lobby's balcony. Jefferson's eyes darted around, trying to stay discreet as he hissed, "Hamilton, what are you doing?" In his earpiece was silence. Hamilton didn't stop or slow down, and jogged up the grand staircase. "Oh for the love of- Hamilton, stand down, people are noticing you!"

When he was halfway up the stairs, a man by the railing turned sharply and pushed the button for the elevators behind him. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Jefferson started after his teammate at a run, muttering, "We've been spotted, be ready for an emergency pickup, this can't end well."

"Got it," Lafayette said, reaching between the tech to give the back of the driver's cabin three sharp knocks.

On the balcony level, Hamilton wasted no time, sprinting towards the elevators as the man stepped into one and started closing the doors. Jefferson rounded the top of the stairs as Hamilton ran into the elevator doors a moment too late, and then pounded the button to summon another. It took several seconds to appear, making Hamilton more impatient. When he reached him, Jefferson grabbed his arm to stop the furious button pressing.

"Are you insane?"

"He was already onto us, we can still pull this off," Hamilton said, staring at the lights above the elevator doors.

"The only thing that could happen is us getting our asses kicked, or worse, shot. This isn't the time to be reckless."

Hamilton yanked his arm away, giving his partner a sharp glare. "I'm not being reckless, you're being intransigent, it's not too late to take him down."

The elevator doors opened, and Hamilton pushed Jefferson aside in his haste to dive in. Jefferson slipped in before Hamilton could close the doors on him. "We came in with a solid plan, and you've thrown it all out the window!"

"I'm trying to save this mission, he recognized you thanks to your sloppy solo work at the other Agency. I won't let you ruin my first chance to get off the bench!"

Jefferson looked at him, appalled, though he quickly shut up when the elevator stopped on its way up. The two composed themselves and acted casual as the elevator doors opened, revealing their floor. From what they could see, the hallway was empty. Not taking any more chances, Jefferson reached under his suit jacket and silently took out his gun as Hamilton stepped out, with a glance in either direction, before taking off once again at a run. Jefferson followed the best he could, glancing at door numbers as they passed by them. Near the end of the hall, they stopped in front of a door with a 'do not disturb' sign on the handle.

"This isn't a good idea," Jefferson muttered again.

Not listening, Hamilton reached for his gun with one hand as he grabbed the door handle with the other. The door was locked. Jefferson looked up and down the hallway as Hamilton backed up and rammed the door with his shoulder, and then backed up to try kicking it. As he did, Jefferson saw the slightest movement around the corner, and backed into the nearest doorway. An instant later, the hallway was filled with a deafening gunshot, one which had thankfully missed its targets. Hamilton had jumped and flattened him against the wall opposite of Jefferson.

"Thanks for the _warning!_ " he spat as Jefferson raised his gun towards the offending shooter. Two warning shots into the far wall made the shooter duck behind their corner, and the two agents took off running in the opposite direction. The hallway was quiet as they raced along the floor to the next elevator station. Hamilton, reaching it first, was once again impatiently pushing the button as Jefferson covered the rear, ready to shoot again.

In the elevator, they leaned against the walls to catch their breaths. "Seriously," Hamilton said after a few seconds, "You didn't think to mention that I might get shot at?"

"You were fine, they missed," Jefferson replied scornfully. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Hamilton jabbed a finger at him. "I took things into my own hands because he already recognized you!"

Cutting into their argument through their earpieces, Peggy scolded them, "You can argue later, just focus on getting out of there alive!"

The guns were stashed back in their holsters, and their clothes were straightened. They passed through the lobby as calmly as they could, keeping watch out of the corners of their eyes for any sign of further danger.

As soon as the back of the van was closed with the agents inside, Peggy was on them with questions. Despite being the smallest one there, she didn't hold back her annoyance.

"Washington put you both together to be our star team, but you can't even bring one person into our custody?"

"I could have done it if he weren't here," Hamilton sneered.

"That's big talk from the person who screwed it up," Jefferson shot back.

"Mes amis," Lafayette cut in, "What's done is done, there's no point in fighting about it now."

The rest of the ride back to their headquarters happened in stony silence. Neither agent would look at each other until nearly an hour later, when they were called in to talk to Washington.

Even as they walked in, the disappointment in the room was nearly tangible. Washington waited, and Jefferson sat, keeping ahold of his cane, though Hamilton remained standing behind the other chair, passive aggressively sipping his third coffee of the day. When it was clear that he would not be sitting, Washington sighed.

"Peggy brought me a copy of the recordings of your mission." He looked from Hamilton to Jefferson, who were studying the wall and the floor, respectively. "I don't think I need to tell you that both of your behavior was completely unacceptable."

Hamilton burst out, "Things would have been fine if he hadn't been there, I could have done it fine by myself."

"Oh sure," Jefferson said with an eyeroll. "Blame it on the person who didn't try to jump into what was clearly going to be a trap."

Cutting off further response, Washington sharply said, "That's enough. This was the result of the actions of both of you. I'm not reversing my decision for you two to be partners. You're going to have to learn to work together."

"Sir, how can I work with someone who doesn't even tell their partner to beware of possible gunfire?"

At this further complaint, Jefferson grimaced and gripped his cane tighter. Washington noticed his silence, and sighed. He stood up and addressed Hamilton. "I've asked Angelica and Eliza to brainstorm possible teamwork exercises. I want to give you both another chance, but I can't let you back onto the field if this is the result."

Stepping forward, Hamilton protested, "Sir, let me resume field duty on my own, at least until-"

"No, Hamilton. This is final. If you can't learn to work together, I'll have to replace you with Burr."

Jefferson glanced up, and was satisfied to see the horrified expression on Hamilton's face as he plead, "Why should I be replaced, with him? I have far more field experience, he's too cautious, it would never work!"

Washington lowered his voice calmly, coming around his desk. "You're excellent at what you do, Hamilton. We're lucky to have you." He rested a hand on Hamilton's shoulder. "I need a team of capable agents that I can trust with our most sensitive missions. Jefferson has about as much experience as you, but he also has consistency. If you can learn to work together, you'll make a wonderful team, because you can keep up with each other. But I am forced to consider the possibility that you're too unpredictable for the team I'm looking for. After you, Burr has the best qualifications."

Jefferson held his head higher upon hearing that his spot was secure. As he watched, Hamilton had become completely serious. "I won't let you down, sir."

With a small smile and a nod, Washington let go of Hamilton, and invited him to sit. As Hamilton lowered himself into the other chair, Washington returned behind his desk. Together the three of them went over the events of the mission, addressing every detail that contributed to the failure, and discussing how to handle the situation better the next time. Most solutions were as simple as communication and trust.

In the time since the extremely dissatisfactory investigation into the massacre of Jefferson's previous employers, Washington had Jefferson recalling all the information he could, about past and present missions and targets. After all the people had been gunned down, the attackers had set the place on fire, destroying all of their records, ultimately leaving many of the bodies unidentifiable. Jefferson and his only remaining colleague Maddison had both been extremely lucky, Jefferson being left for dead and Maddison being out sick. Jefferson's memory of the files was, of course, extremely limited, but since there was no one else with knowledge of their ongoing jobs, it had fallen to Washington's team to clean up and, in some cases, take over the job themselves at the request of the individual patron. This most recent field mission had not been the first of the set, but it had been one of the more important ones. As such, Washington had assigned it to Jefferson and Hamilton, as their first chance to work together in the field. The plan had been to bring in the target to take the tracker from under his skin, and sync it with their computers so the man could once again be tracked through GPS. As was customary for him, he was only in the city for one night, and traveled with a few bodyguards.

As they returned to sit at their desks, Hamilton and Jefferson walked side by side. Laurens was there waiting for them. He seemed concerned for a moment, but then smiled a little as they approached. "I heard your mission was a flop. It looks like you aren't injured though."

Hamilton's cocky attitude resumed as he bragged, "Who would want to shoot a perfect body?"

Jefferson stopped and rested both hands on his cane, judging Hamilton as he kept walking to better talk with Laurens. "I don't know," he said, "Seems pretty average to me."

Hamilton stopped short and turned back with a puzzling expression, while Laurens burst into laughter. "He's got you there!"

"John, not you too, you're supposed to agree with me!" Hamilton said jokingly, clearly trying to pretend that this was normal.

Shaking his head, Laurens asked, "So what's the latest? Did you get chewed out?"

Taking the chance to ignore Jefferson, Hamilton turned his back on him again. "Nothing major. After some teamwork exercises, I'll be back out in the field before you know it."

Jefferson slipped past them to sit at his desk as Laurens said, "I was down with Angelica just before this, we were all having a good time coming up with things we can make you do." He grinned mischievously. "Things got out of hand when Mulligan suggested finding you both an extra-large shirt that says 'this is our getting along shirt', and making you both wear it like some sort of three legged race. It quickly became a competition to see who could come up with the craziest thing that Washington might actually consider doing."

Hamilton cast a glance at Jefferson, who was still listening, confused. With an eyeroll, Hamilton looked back to his friend. "There's no way he would do the shirt thing. We're adults, not children."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Laurens smirked, crossing his arms. "He did say he would take any suggestions we could come up with."

Hamilton smoothly changed the subject. "Speaking of suggestions, are we still on for drinks tonight?"

Just as Jefferson was tuning them out, Laurens's reply caught his attention again. "Yeah, Madds said he might come if he's feeling up to it. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, I don't see why not. Is Herc still determined to set him up with someone?"

Laurens gave a short laugh. "Of course. Though he should probably first get more successful with his own attempts."

Jefferson couldn't stay silent anymore, spinning his chair around to face them as he asked, "You're trying to hook James up with a girl?"

"Yeah," Laurens said with a smile, and then backtracked a little. "Or should we be trying to get him with a guy?"

Now it was Jefferson's turn to backtrack. "No, he's straight. Just, really? I love the guy, but he's deathly shy around women. There's no way you could set him up. Not with some stranger at a bar."

"Did you try?"

"Yeah, I got pretty close once. There's no way you'd succeed without me there."

Laurens looked to Hamilton. "Did you ask? You didn't ask, did you?"

Hamilton shrugged off his question. "How could I? We were trying to kidnap a guy."

Laurens gave Hamilton's arm a smack for his sass, and turned to Jefferson. "This idiot was supposed to ask if you wanted to come too. We normally go out for drinks if we're all free when he survives a mission."

" _When_ I survive a mission," Hamilton corrected him.

Looking from one to the other, Jefferson shrugged a shoulder. "Why not, I gotta keep you all off James's case."

"Awesome," Laurens said, shifting his weight and tapping the cubicle wall with his toes. "Ham, you should come see what I've been working on."

Hamilton raised his eyebrows and gave Jefferson a quick glance. "Sure, I guess I've got time."

The two disappeared together. When they were out of earshot, Jefferson texted Maddison a warning of what they were planning to do. Maddison simply said he knew.

Luckily for them, they all got away earlier than the last time. Unluckily for Maddison, they wasted no time, and were immediately asking him questions about what he liked in a woman, and if girls they passed were attractive to him. Jefferson found their determination to be amusing. He noticed with a little surprise that Hamilton wasn't with them, but was also watching them fondly, at Jefferson's left elbow.

When Hamilton noticed Jefferson watching him, he said, "Team building exercise."

"Ah," Jefferson responded, and left it at that.

Hamilton spoke again, explaining, "Eliza put me up to it. She said that I should try taking life at your pace."

With a glance down, Jefferson noticed Hamilton walking in step with him. "I don't think this is what she meant," he said, frowning.

"Maybe not," he admitted. "Though, you do walk oddly."

"How so?"

"Well," Hamilton started, clearly about to go off on a speech, "your stride times are different. Most people walk at an even pace with both feet, but your left stride is shorter once your foot has made contact." He waved a hand and continued, "It could be the cane. People who walk with canes do tend to have one step that is shorter than the other." He held up one finger. "But. Those people also have some sort of injury or other reason to be using the cane in the first place." His hand went to his side, and he turned his head towards Jefferson a little to eye him curiously. "You don't have something like that, do you?"

"Of course not," Jefferson scoffed, looking straight ahead. "It just feels natural this way."

Hamilton took a few longer steps to be walking slightly in front of Jefferson, and he held out his hand. When Jefferson gave him a look, he explained, "I've never walked with a cane. I want to see for myself."

"Give me one good reason," Jefferson said scathingly.

Hamilton smirked like he knew he had Jefferson in a corner. "Trust exercise. I won't damage it."

After a few more steps, Jefferson sighed and lifted his cane so it no longer touched the pavement with every step. "Only for a little while." He traded hands with it, and put it in Hamilton's open palm. Hamilton fell back beside him and figured out how to hold it. Jefferson, meanwhile, put conscious effort into ensuring his feet hit the ground at even intervals. Thankfully, his walk without the cane was normal. He then watched Hamilton try to find a natural way to walk with his cane. Because he was shorter than the cane's owner, Hamilton was a bit awkward with it. After passing a few shops, Hamilton had found a way to lean some of his weight on it, and seemed confused. "How long have you had this? And why do you carry it around, if you don't need it?"

"It's a perfectly acceptable fashion accessory, for your information. No different to a tie clip or pocket square," Jefferson said coolly.

Hamilton must have had enough, because he handed the cane back. "The difference is that people actually wear tie clips and pocket squares."

"To each his own," Jefferson said to end the debate. He took the cane back in his right hand and went on walking with it. To his annoyance, Hamilton went back to walking in step with him.

For this reason, sitting down again at the bar was especially welcome. As soon as they all had drinks on the way, Mulligan and Laurens were already looking around, pointing out a few more women to Maddison, who had accepted his fate. Jefferson watched as even Hamilton joined in on giving Maddison tips, and telling him what to say. Jefferson looked over to the girl they had decided on. She was sitting with a few friends, all of whom were curiously eyeing their group. One of them made eye contact with Jefferson and quickly turned to whisper something to her friends, who all giggled. Since none of the guys were going to do anything, and were giving pretty inconsequential advice anyways, Jefferson decided to take things into his own hands. He waited with them as they let Maddison get a little alcohol down, and then, as they were trying to convince him to go talk to them, he drank the last if his own, picked up his cane, and made his way over to their table.

As expected, there were a few more whispers when they saw him approaching. After he had slid past the last table between them, he flashed the girls a smile and leaned down so they could hear him ask, "Mind if I join you?"

From their place at the bar, Laurens was finishing his pep talk when Lafayete nudged him. "Mes amis, Jefferson is already over there!"

Hamilton turned and saw the magenta suit seated in a chair pulled from an empty table. As they watched, Jefferson leaned in with a charming smile and said something which reduced the ladies to fits of giggles. He then looked back, and locked eyes with Hamilton. Something about it stirred something in Hamilton's chest. Jefferson clearly wanted them to know for sure that he was completely capable of entertaining a table of women. Then, he turned back to them, as one stood up. She looked at the boys's group and smiled at the floor as she wove her way through the bar to them. Laurens grinned and pulled Hamilton into a side hug in his excitement. As she closed the last few feet to stand in front of them, they settled down and acted cool.

She reached up and touched the ends of her hair as she glanced at them all, before smiling at Maddison. "Are you James?"

Mulligan elbowed him to encourage him to speak. "Yes…?"

The girl smiled more, eyes dropping to the floor for a moment. "My friends and I were wondering if you'd like to join us?"

"I'd, be honored," he said shyly, and she turned a little, to indicate him to follow.

Hamilton looked back to Jefferson, who was watching the exchange with his arm resting on the back of his chair. As the pair came closer to the table, Jefferson stood up and took his cane in hand once more, offering Maddison his seat. As Maddison sat, Laurens let out a whoop of celebration, snatching his drink and raising it to toast the success. Hamilton clinked glasses with them, though couldn't stop watching Jefferson as he joined them once more.

As soon as he was within reach, Laurens and Mulligan pulled him in to congratulate him and bombard him with questions. Lafayette jokingly asked if he would help Mulligan get a date too. After he had given him an elbow to the ribs, Mulligan asked if he actually might. If bought a drink, Jefferson said he'd consider it. When the drink was in his hand, however, it only took a second of consideration before he said no, and they all shared a laugh. Laurens noticed the competitive gleam in Hamilton's eyes, and grinned, suggesting that Hamilton show his skills next, and go get a girl's phone number.

Hamilton finished the last of his drink and looked around, spying a young lady by herself a ways down the bar. He went over, and the friends watched as he struck up a conversation. When it was clear that they were getting into it, Laurens turned to Jefferson.

"You know," he said, "Alex is bi."

"What?"

"You know, bisexual."

Jefferson didn't look at him. "That's not really my business but ok."

"He doesn't really keep it a secret, but it doesn't come up in conversation," Laurens explained.

Jefferson passed him a confused look. "It's really not my business, why does it matter to me?"

"Well, you're supposed to be a team. You may as well get to know each other better."

Jefferson shrugged, saying, "I suppose, but there's better ways to get to know someone."

Lafayette jumped in, "Did you really check out Alex's butt and call him average?"

Jefferson looked up at the shelves of whiskey behind the bar. "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."

"It's fine to be gay," Laurens quickly assured him. "I am."

Though he lowered his gaze to meet Laurens's, it was accompanied by a deadly seriousness. "Surely you of all people understand that there are some things I prefer to keep on a need to know basis."

Intimidated was not the right way to describe Laurens's reaction. It was more of a sobering understanding. Mulligan and Lafayette looked between the two, getting the impression that they had some secret they weren't telling. There was no time to ask what it was, however, because Hamilton joined them with a gloating smile as she showed them his phone screen.

"Done and done," he said, and ordered another drink. "Oh, and Herc, she said she might have a friend to set you up with, so I gave her your number."

"You're the greatest," Mulligan praised, giving Hamilton a well-deserved fist bump.

Hamilton raised a challenging eyebrow at Jefferson. "Think you can top that?"

Jefferson raised his drink in acknowledgement. "Nah, you win. I've disrupted enough ladies's nights."

Laurens raised his drink as well. "To the victor, the feral tom cat!"

The others joined in, and drank. After a while, Maddison joined them again, embarrassed as he told the prying Laurens and Mulligan that he had gotten a phone number and a promise to meet again sometime. He told them about the girls, and how one of them had tried to get him to share Jefferson's number, since Jefferson had been vague when saying he wouldn't give it to them.

When Hamilton and Laurens left to catch a bus across the city, the others left too. When Lafayette and Mulligan had both split off to go their separate ways, Maddison and Jefferson took the chance to talk more personally. Maddison asked for an account of how the mission went, and wouldn't let Jefferson go until he had promised to take good care of himself that night.

When he had said goodbye to Laurens, Hamilton took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts to find the newest addition. He went to call her, but found his thumb hovering over the screen. He read her name over and over, but couldn't bring himself to call. When he did touch the screen, he touched the 'delete contact' button. He sighed and put his phone back in his pocket, and glanced up at the sky. It was hard to tell, but it seemed like dark clouds were coming in, threatening to give the city streets a wash. Hamilton pushed open the door to his apartment building, resolving not to think about any of this.

The next day, as a sleepless Hamilton approached his desk, he saw Maddison and Jefferson talking in whispers at Jefferson's desk. When he got closer, Maddison took notice, straightened up, and left, greeting him as they passed each other. Hamilton looked back at him for a few steps, and then at Jefferson, who seemed to be waiting for him.

Indeed, when Hamilton came near and took off his coat, Jefferson said, "Washington is waiting for you. Well, I suppose it's me who is waiting. He's starting our little exercises today."

"Great," Hamilton said with a sigh. He tossed his coat on the back of his chair and started his trek. He hadn't even taken a few steps when Jefferson stopped him.

"Hey. You alright? That gal didn't keep you up all night, did she?"

Hamilton walked backwards a few steps with his arms out. "What can I say?" It wasn't his most convincing boast, so he turned back around and checked in. No sooner had he opened the door, Washington grabbed a paper and ushered him right back out and back to their desks.

"This is a list of your day's activities. If things go well, this day could be the last one like this. But only if you take it seriously. I'll be getting reports from everyone about how well you've done, so there's no getting out of it."

"Yessir," Jefferson said with a small salute.

Washington nodded a little at that, but continued on. "First things first, we're reorganizing your space. These cubicle barriers are old, unnecessary, and quite frankly, are a barrier to communication."

Jefferson stood up and took a look at the nearest corner, asking, "How will we be doing that?"

"That is your job to figure out," Washington told them. "If you don't finish it in about two hours, move on and you can finish it before you go home tonight. I leave your schedule with you." He handed the paper to Hamilton, who stared at it. "Remember, if this doesn't work out, one of you will be replaced. There is still time for me to reconsider which of you that will be."

With that, he left. The two agents watched him go, and then Jefferson came to read the paper over Hamilton's shoulder. "…trust falls? … confessions and compliments? …back to back wall sits? He really is treating us like we're children."

"Let's just get this over with," Hamilton said, and set the paper on his desk. He grabbed his chair to roll it away, and Jefferson went to do the same. Next, they worked together to pull the heavy wooden desks out of their small space. Then came the hard part.

With no tools and no way of knowing how they went together, the pair of agents was left to the powers of their eyes, minds, and hands. With some investigation, they were able to find some suspicious looking screws and bolts, but with nothing to take them out with, it was an impasse regardless.

"I'll call Eliza and ask if they have a… a wrench or something," Hamilton said, pausing due to a yawn.

"Are you sure? You look like you need a nap, or at least a triple shot of espresso," Jefferson said, leaning his elbow on the top of the cubicle wall. "Seriously. I don't think I've seen someone look that bad overnight."

"I'm fine," Hamilton said, waving his hand dismissively.

Jefferson raised his eyebrows, not buying it. "No one says 'I'm fine' when they're actually fine. Take a seat in this empty cavity, and I'll go find us some tools. I'll wake you up when I get back."

Hamilton nodded and looked to the floor as he passed Jefferson, but then stopped and looked up at him. "Are you, talking like you're from the south?"

In response, he got a blank look, accompanied by, "Uh, what?"

"Just then. You sounded like you were…." Hamilton shook his head. "Nevermind."

Jefferson gave him his look for another moment. "Yeah, I'll just go find those tools." Without waiting, he left.

Hamilton watched him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what his mind was trying to do, before giving up and sitting down against the cubicle wall. As soon as he closed his eyes, he could feel his mind both longing for sleep, and yet not knowing how. After what felt like forever, he could feel that he was drifting off at last, but the rushing air of the ventilation system became deafening, and Hamilton jerked awake. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. In the next few moments, his eyes landed on the ceiling vents, the cubicle wall across from him, and then the magenta pants of Jefferson, who was sitting on the floor, doing something to the bottom of the cubicle wall. As he saw each of these things, Hamilton calmed down, and wondered how long Jefferson had been back. After a few deep breaths to slow his racing heart, he checked his wristwatch. An hour had passed. Though it hadn't been much, some part of Hamilton did feel a little bit better.

"How long were you going to let me sleep?" he asked, his voice cracking a little.

Jefferson looked back over his shoulder, and then turned back to what he was doing, as he said, "However long. You still look like death."

Hamilton exhaled a small laugh. "Death only wishes it could look this good."

"Whatever makes you feel better," Jefferson said with a smile in his voice.

In the silence that followed, Hamilton stretched, got up, and stretched some more. As he reached towards the ceiling, the cubicle wall suddenly tipped towards Jefferson. On instinct, Hamilton lunged for it, but it stopped before he got the chance to touch it. Jefferson had caught it with one hand, and he leaned it back upright as he stood. Hamilton dropped his arms and took a step back, and Jefferson changed his grip, lifted the section of wall, and carried it to where two other sections were laying on their side a few feet away. As he went, Hamilton noticed the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, showing rather strong forearms. Of course they were strong, Hamilton thought to himself. Anyone in their line of work would need to be in great physical condition, or they would run the risk at not being strong or fast enough to get into and out of fistfights.

When the newest addition had settled down on the pile, Jefferson turned back around, and rolled his shoulder a little, considering Hamilton. "Some storm last night, huh?"

Hamilton blinked and straightened up more, asking, "Why do you say that?"

"Well, it would be hard not to notice. If I had to say, I would think it got close to a small hurricane."

Hamilton held Jefferson's eyes steadily as he said, "Then yes, it sounds like it was quite the storm. You just answered your own question."

"Relax," Jefferson said as he came back into their office space. "It isn't a big deal." He gestured towards the floor. "Why don't you sit back down, I've got a little story time for you."

"I'm not a child," Hamilton said coldly.

Jefferson grinned. "There's that Hamil-sass." He sat down against the cubicle himself, and patted the floor next to him. "I could use a little break anyway, don't be shy." When Hamilton stubbornly remained standing, Jefferson gave up waiting for him and started talking.

"I was born and raised in Virginia. Mama came from one of those smaller towns where more people speak in a southern accent." Since this seemed like it could be a very long story, Hamilton lowered himself back to the floor. "She didn't want to stay there forever, so she moved to the city. Worked as a temp for a while, and met my dad. She always said she was glad to get out of there, but she did her darndest to make sure I learned some of her small town values. Of course, only a couple of them actually stuck." He smiled a little more at the floor. "I guess I do talk a bit more like her sometimes. I was thinking about it while you were asleep. I guess it's sort of my way of staying connected to her lessons, when I'm trying to be more patient than I am."

Silence passed over them again. Hamilton watched Jefferson as he lived in the fond memories of his family. Then, Jefferson looked up suddenly and met his eyes. "That's enough about me, how about you?"

"I'm an orphan," Hamilton said shortly.

Jefferson gave him the same awkward smile he usually got. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I'm used to it."

Silence came again, though more awkward than before. Hamilton checked his watch.

"Well, we've got a little more time until our next activity," he said.

Jefferson sighed. "You know what I think?" He heaved himself standing again, and held out a hand to Hamilton. As he took the hand and stood, Jefferson said, "I think we ought to abandon the plan."

"Who are you and what have you done with Thomas Jefferson?" Hamilton asked, only half joking.

"Come on," he reasoned. "The point of this list is to build teamwork, right? Well I can think of a dozen better ways than these gimmicks."

Hamilton shook his head, a grin finding its way onto his face. "You realize our jobs are on the line?"

Jefferson started rolling down his sleeves, saying, "The world really has turned upside down. You're really arguing to keep the tedious boring way of accomplishing our goal?"

Hamilton looked around. When he spotted Jefferson's cane, he retrieved it as Jefferson buttoned his sleeves. Jefferson held out his hand, but Hamilton first twirled the cane in his hand a little, before tossing it to him. Jefferson caught it, and the two shared a grin. They looked back in the direction of Washington's office, but there was no sign of anything to stop them. Since he was nearby, Hamilton grabbed their coats, and the two walked briskly to the elevator. They said nothing, and when they reached the ground floor, they peered around before making a dash for the door. On the street, they kept a lively pace, glancing back occasionally. A block away, they rounded a corner and slowed to a relaxed pace, Jefferson snickering a little.

"Where to first?" he asked, looking down at his partner.

"I think that triple shot of espresso sounds pretty nice," Hamilton replied with an equal smile.

The two wandered around until they found a small coffee shop with free wifi, and Jefferson sat at a table for two as Hamilton got himself some much-needed caffeine. After a few internet searches on his phone, Jefferson had a good idea of what he wanted to do while they could. As Hamilton rejoined him and sat down with his coffee, Jefferson said, "Here's what I was thinking. There's a pretty good chance that they try to call us when they realize we're gone. We've gotta make pretty good use of our time. I've got a few ideas of where we can go." Hamilton nodded to show he was listening. "The farther away we are, the longer we can stay away, but the less time we'll get to do something. So I found a place with a couple of things in the area, so we can spend less time traveling." Hamilton nodded again. "It seems like a pretty cool place, and it's a weekday, so it shouldn't be that busy."

"So what is it?"

Jefferson hesitated a little. "Laser tag."

"Laser tag?"

"Laser tag."

"That sounds more stupid than the things we're trying to escape," Hamilton said, and took a drink of his coffee.

"Well then your trust exercise is to trust me on this. Laser tag is how I first got into guns, and the fact that I'm here shows where that got me." He stood up, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Bring that with, I'll call us a cab.

One coffee and one taxi ride through the city later, Jefferson and Hamilton were putting on the black vests of the laser tag arena. There were some other people there, a group of college students who were trying to split themselves into two teams, and were arguing about which of the adults would be on which team. Once his vest was on, Jefferson called across the room to them, telling the five that he and Hamilton could take them all down. The students laughed, and Hamilton pulled up his shirt to show them the hilt of his concealed gun. Though it had been intended as intimidation, it drew them in, and they agreed to the disproportionate teams.

The arena itself took up most of the building's space. Each team was handed their laser guns, and was sent to their home base. In the black light, it was clear that the pair had another huge disadvantage. Their shirts glowed brightly, and the students on the other team had all come prepared in all black. Nonetheless, Jefferson was grinning. The first round, he and Hamilton didn't stray far from the base, repelling the attacks of their enemies fairly easily. They were able to push them back, but never made it to the base. As such, the time ran out and points were tallied based on shooting alone. The second round, the students were already getting crafty. They had split up again, but sent four after Hamilton, leaving their best individual to hold off Jefferson. As such, they were able to break past Hamilton and destroy the base. In what little time they had before the next round, Hamilton and Jefferson planned their approach. As soon as the round started, they took off at a run, staying together. Hamilton, slightly faster, wove between obstacles while Jefferson covered him from behind. As they hoped would happen, Jefferson was shot out, while Hamilton made it to the base and destroyed it. With only one kill in that game, the students' score was incredibly small in comparison.

They stayed for a few more rounds, and then the students had to be on their way. The agents played one more round of one on one, before calling it good. They stopped next door for lunch, by Jefferson's request, before hitting the streets yet again. Jefferson tucked his hands in his pockets as they walked, and they listened to the sounds of the city. A block away, Hamilton glanced down to walk in step with his partner again, and frowned, noticing something was odd.

"Jefferson, where's your cane?"

"Well, it's-" Jefferson stopped dead, nearly getting run into by the people behind them. The look on his face said it all. Horror. He turned sharply to stare behind them, visibly trying to figure out if he had left it behind.

"There's still time to go back," Hamilton said, and took off at a run, weaving through the pedestrians. Jefferson wasn't far behind him, though he couldn't weave through people as effectively. Hamilton took a moment to breathe before entering the restaurant, and a simple question to their server told him that the cane had not made it there.

Outside, Jefferson caught up, and looked distressed. "It's not here," he said between gasps for air.

"I know, I just asked them. No one saw it." He moved to go next door to the laser tag arena, but Jefferson grabbed his arm.

"It's not there either."

"…what?"

Jefferson looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, pleading. The next moment, he had looked towards the street. "Do you remember the name of that coffee shop?"

Hamilton shook his head. "No."

With a sigh, Jefferson let go of him. "That's what I thought… Neither do I."

"We can retrace our steps, if we start back at the agency-"

"It's hopeless. The whole point was to go somewhere we wouldn't have thought to go before."

Hamilton examined his partner's face. Jefferson turned away and went to the curb to hail a cab. Since it didn't seem like there was much he could do about it, Hamilton followed him. Jefferson gave the driver an address a block away from the agency and stayed silent, staring out the window and gripping his right knee. It was unsettling to say the least, to see Jefferson so upset. He had seen this face before, of course, but this time was different. It was avoidable. And, far more personal. While trying to remember if Jefferson had his name engraved on it somewhere, he remembered a detail from what seemed like a long time ago.

"Did you say it belonged to a relative?"

It took a second for Jefferson to respond. "I suppose I did."

"Are you sure you don't want to try finding it?"

"It's gone, face it. There's half a million coffee shops in this city. It would take forever to find the right one, and I doubt it'd still be there."

Hamilton didn't press the issue further, and let the ride finish in near silence. He wasn't sure what could even be said. He suspected, though, that it wasn't hopeless. Perhaps a laptop or a cellphone might get stolen, but something as conspicuous as a cane hardly had the resale value that electronics had. When they reached their stop, Hamilton was quick to stop Jefferson from pulling out his wallet.

"You go on ahead, I'll be right after you," Hamilton said, paying the driver.

Jefferson didn't question him. When Hamilton got out, however, he took off, jogging in the opposite direction. Jefferson watched him go, sighed, and returned to the agency by himself. He held his head up high as he went in, and punched the elevator button. When it stopped on his floor, the doors opened to reveal Washington waiting for him, arms crossed, displeased.

Washington sat Jefferson down in his office, and Jefferson listened to his lecture. "Not only have you both skipped all of your mandatory team building exercises, you come back without your partner? Do you have any idea how disappointed I am with your behavior?"

"We left to make our own team building day. With all due respect-"

"That's enough. How am I to know that you didn't just agree to skip work? You haven't even returned together. I hope I won't have to be writing a missing persons report."

"I hope you won't either."

Washington sighed, and waved a hand. "Go work on your cubicles. Clearly I have to rethink your position on this team."

Jefferson stood and excused himself. He did as he was told, hanging his coat on the back of his chair, and rolled up his sleeves to set to the task he had started that morning. It was considerably different than it had been before. Jefferson wasn't aware of how much time had passed, but two cubicle walls later, he heard running footsteps approaching. He glanced up, and did a double take. Hamilton had returned, with a proud grin on his face. He stopped beside the section of wall Jefferson was working on, and held out his hand. In it was the very cane he had lost. In growing amazement, Jefferson reached up and took it, examining it for scratches.

In between his deep breaths, Hamilton pointed finger guns at Jefferson, and said, "You're welcome."

Jefferson exhaled a laugh and looked up at him. "You crazy son of a bitch, you actually went and found it!"

"Of course," he said, and leaned both elbows on the cubicle. "I also got my running in for the day."

Jefferson held the handle of his cane and jabbed Hamilton's forearm with its heel. "Don't lean there, I'm trying to work here."

Hamilton smirked as he stood upright. "Great, I've given you your poking stick back. Maybe I should have left it there."

Jefferson was about to return his sass, when Washington called, "Hamilton!"

"Daddy's calling," Jefferson muttered.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Hamilton asked good-naturedly. "I'll be back before you know it."

Contrary to what Hamilton had said, it took nearly half an hour to return. When he did, it was with good news. Washington had decided to forgive them, and would allow them to leave once their workstations were back in order.

"I may have given him a speech about today," Hamilton said. "And before you ask, I got five shots of espresso while I was at that shop. No, I am not having a heart attack, yes I am sure." With that, he plopped himself on the ground next to Jefferson to see what he was doing. With his help, the disassembly did go more quickly than before. When the area was cleared, they had a very lengthly debate about how they should put their desks, front to front or side to side. Laurens came to visit and watched their debate for a while, before cutting in and suggesting back to back, so that they could kick away from their desk and be beside the other at a moment's notice. It took a minute to figure how that would work, but once Hamilton and Jefferson sat down, something about it seemed just right. Hamilton rolled backwards and the back of his chair hit the desk beside Jefferson, and Hamilton smirked and raised his eyebrows suggestively. Jefferson rolled his eyes and pushed Hamilton back to his desk, smiling. They ran their computer wires through the new setup, and checked the clock. To their surprise, the time was approaching 5. They lingered around a little longer, telling those who were still around how they had spent their day. Hamilton left with Laurens again, wishing everyone a good night.

As soon as he got home, Hamilton made a beeline for his writing desk, and unlocked the bottom drawer to retrieve a spiral notebook. He had to move several others to get the one he wanted. He impatiently flipped past an abundance of words to a blank page as he groped around for something to write with. As soon as he had both in front of him, the pen met the page, unleashing a fury of scribbles. He wrote about that day, how Jefferson seemed to be onto him. He wrote about their escape and how they had enjoyed themselves at laser tag. He wrote about how Jefferson had somehow forgotten his cane. Then, he stopped. He wrote about how he had retrieved the cane, and stopped again. He stared at the page, hand itching to keep going, though not knowing how to continue. Slowly, he wrote about Jefferson talking about his mother and father. He wrote about how he was now certain that he had come from a wealthy family, to boot. He wrote the jealousy, the frustration, the longing. Then, stopped again. What word had he just used? Longing? Hamilton stared at that word, willing it to explain its presence. Longing for what? It appeared not as part of a sentence. It stood on its own, followed by a period. No subject, no object. Hamilton shook his head a little and crossed it out. It had no place, no meaning. He put it out of his mind, and wrote theories about what kind of relative may have owned the cane previously. He then found that he had circled back to the subject of family, and mused for a while more about Jefferson's family. Eventually, after four pages had passed, he set down his pen and massaged his hand as he flopped down on his bed to welcome a long awaited sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The New Year had come and gone. On top of that, Hamilton had another reason for contentment. He was finally going on regular missions again. Sure, they were all with his partner, Jefferson, but that part wasn't as terrible as it had seemed before.

"Hamilton. Happy birthday."

There was also that. "Thank you, sir!" Hamilton said, raising a hand to acknowledge Washington as he passed them.

Behind him, Hamilton heard the rolling of chair wheels. He looked to his other side and met eyes with an amused Jefferson, who had rolled his chair back against his desk. "Let me guess. You're turning five years old today," he said.

"Six times that, actually," Hamilton told him, turning back to his computer.

This seemed to amuse Jefferson more. "Only 30? Ah, to be young again."

"Sure, as if you're so much older."

"Older than you."

Hamilton rested his elbow on his desk and looked at Jefferson as he planted his chin in his hand. "Oh, is that so? Do tell, old man."

Raising an eyebrow, Jefferson said, "I'm turning 36 this year."

"Well. You don't look a day over 35," Hamilton said sarcastically.

Jefferson shook his head and glanced at his desk. "Well, it seems like all your special birthday wishes came true this year. Instead of at the bar with friends, you get to spend it with me on a mission."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. You know how I just love your company."

Jefferson chuckled a little. "Your sass has reached new heights, I can't tell if that was supposed to be genuine or not." Hamilton reached over and pushed Jefferson's chair towards his desk, but Jefferson had braced his feet against his desk, and so didn't move. He gave Hamilton a smug look.

"Don't think I'm out of ways to get your stupid face out of my area," Hamilton warned. "I haven't even begun to exhaust my vast resources."

Laughing, Jefferson looked away. "You're still mad about the air horn?"

"You declared war, and I will not rest until I have destroyed you and all you hold dear."

"What are you going to do, put my stuff in Jell-O?" When Hamilton gave him a priceless squint of confusion, Jefferson explained, "Like from that show, The Office. Oh my God, you've never seen it?" Jefferson reached his arm across Hamilton's desk and opened a new tab in his browser. Hamilton sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, watching the struggle of one handedly opening the right YouTube video. As they watched one of the most famous cold opens in pop culture, Hamilton glanced at his partner out of the corner of his eyes. He had such a lively glint in his near-black eyes that it was hard to believe he was in his mid-thirties. Near-black eyes? Not entirely black, but only near black? A deep brown color, like a dark mahogany wood. Hamilton could feel in his hand the itching to write about it. The video clip's climax drew Hamilton's attention again, just in time to see a stapler encased completely in yellow Jell-O.

As she briefed them on the last of the mission's details, Eliza handed them fake ID cards. A week ago, the wealthy owner of a beachside hotel in North Carolina noticed something odd going on with his neighbors, a local bar. They had received a very suspicious shipment at 3 in the morning. A late night employee had taken a picture of it, and that picture had made its way up to the owner. Concerned with his property value and the reputation of his fancy hotel, he had come to them. He had reserved a room for them which overlooked the bar, and had told his staff to steer clear of that room for a week. Jefferson and Hamilton would go under the guise of two friends on a vacation whenever they needed to be in public. This also meant that they would be road tripping to and from the hotel.

Because the drive would be overnight, Hamilton and Jefferson agreed to split it. As Jefferson reached for the driver's door handle of their silver car, Hamilton made a last dash and snatched it. Jefferson sighed and walked around to the other side as Hamilton taunted, "Driver picks the music." Hamilton was already waiting in his seat when Jefferson got in. Not only that, he was waiting for Jefferson to look at him, with a mischievous grin. When Jefferson did look at him, he nodded towards the glove box. "Open it."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Complying, Jefferson opened the glove box. On top of the obligatory paper napkins sat a CD case. It was clearly what Hamilton had wanted him to find. Jefferson picked it up and read the front. "You have got to be kidding me," he said, giving Hamilton a judgmental side eye.

Hamilton's grin widened. "Welcome to the longest 8 hours of your life."

"I am not listening to this on repeat, who even put this here?" Jefferson protested, lifting up the napkins to see the rest of the glove box contents.

"Eliza did. She puts it in every one of my mission vehicles. By my request, of course." Hamilton watched Jefferson put the napkins back as he started the engine. "Go on," he prompted. "Put it in."

Left with no other options, Jefferson opened the CD case and loaded the Mission: Impossible soundtrack into the car's CD player. The familiar trill played, and Hamilton turned up the volume so it filled the car, and then pulled onto the street to get their mission underway. Eight long hours later, they were in North Carolina, pulling their suitcases into their hotel room.

Much to their relief, the mission itself wasn't too terrible. They watched the bar, and on the third night, Hamilton went in with an earpiece to get a closer look and ask a few questions. A few times, Jefferson had to tell Hamilton to stop flirting and focus on what he was supposed to be doing. From the inside, Hamilton was able to confirm that there was some space in the back of the building that wasn't being used by the bar itself, though the staff seemed clueless about it. Jefferson pointed out when someone they kept seeing walked in, and Hamilton watched for some clue as to what was going on, though nothing happened. When the bar kicked everyone out, Hamilton lingered outside down the street until Jefferson confirmed that the last staff member had left. As with previous nights, the building was completely inactive. Hamilton walked around as much of the building as he could.

The next night, a lead. A local told Hamilton a legend about how the back room of the bar was haunted, and it had been completely sealed off. The bartender, a robust woman, confirmed this legend, and even let Hamilton approach the door and try its handle. From their hotel room, Jefferson did some quick internet searches, finding the legend in more detail, but not much else. Through his headset, he told Hamilton to ask if he could take a picture of the door. A minute later, Hamilton send him the picture of a door at the end of a short hallway, painted all black to blend in with the walls around it. On the door, at chest height, there was a small etching. Jefferson zoomed in on the picture. It looked like a small crown. When asked to, Hamilton asked about it. The bartender said it was just graffiti. Jefferson wasn't so sure, so Hamilton took a closer picture of it. When the sun came up, Hamilton returned, and the two discussed their new information.

A legend always comes from an incident, though from everything they could find, there was no account of an incident. From what it seemed, someone had started telling the story. The ghost, it seemed, had suddenly appeared, aggravated by the sounds of banging on wood. There was no record of the ghost having ever done something. Yet the legend existed. Highly suspicious.

"There has to be something behind that door. Even if it's just storage," Jefferson said, gripping his left knee as he stared at the legend on his phone screen.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Hamilton asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The chances of us thinking the same thing are next to nothing," Jefferson said as he glanced up at him.

Ignoring that comment, Hamilton said, "We need to bother that ghost."

"I suppose there isn't any other way to proceed. Let's bother that ghost."

Hamilton and Jefferson went to the bar together. Hamilton told the bartender that Jefferson was curious about the legend, and asked if they could see the door. As with the night before, they were allowed to look. Hamilton and Jefferson exchanged a small nod, and Hamilton gave the door a knock. A few seconds and nothing happened. He knocked a little harder. Still nothing. Jefferson looked behind them. No one was watching them, but that might change very quickly if there really was criminal activity going on.

"Knock like you mean it," Jefferson muttered. Obliging, Hamilton hammered his fist on the door once, rattling it in its frame. Something behind the door clattered on the floor. They certainly had the bar's attention now. Hamilton tried the door's handle. Miraculously, the door opened. Hamilton slipped inside and closed the door again as the bartender rounded the corner to look into the short hallway, where Jefferson now stood, alone.

"Hey, what are you doing? Didn't your friend tell you that we don't touch that door?"

"Sorry," Jefferson said quickly. "I wanted to see if something would happen."

The bartender gave him a suspicious look. "Where is your friend anyway?"

"He went to the bathroom," Jefferson lied. Thankfully, the bartender seemed to buy it. All the same, she shooed Jefferson out of the hallway. With nothing else to do, Jefferson got a drink and waited for some word from Hamilton.

On the other side of the mysterious door, Hamilton pulled out his phone and turned on its flashlight, to pierce the darkness. He took a step into the room, and felt his foot knock something wooden. Hamilton pointed his light at it, and crouched down to see what it was. It was a plank of wood, with three small magnets set into the wood. This was the source of the noise when he had banged the door. Hamilton looked behind him and saw three more magnets across the door. He smiled a little and stood up, finding that when the board was replaced across the door, it extended past the door frame, and the ends fit under a set of horizontal bracers. The magnets held the board across the door when he let it go. So much for a sealed back room.

The room was, as he had expected, currently empty. There were a few shelves around the outside, and a table and chairs in the middle of the room. Hanging from the ceiling above the table was an old chandelier, with candles in it. There were no spider webs or dusty surfaces anywhere. Hamilton started by examining the shelves. There were unmarked cardboard boxes on each one. None were open. Hamilton took a panoramic picture of the room. For gloating material, he also took a picture of the trick door. He had showed that door who was boss.

Hamilton set his phone light on the table and carefully removed a box from the shelf. It didn't seem to weigh a lot. He set it on the table and worked his short fingernails under the packing tape that sealed the box. Within seconds, the box was open, and Hamilton was staring at what was inside. Staring back at him were the beady eyes of a dozen stuffed lions. He peered around them to make sure they were the only things in the box, and then lifted one up. He tossed it back and forth between his hands, trying to judge its internal contents. He was no expert, but it seemed pretty standard, though an unusual thing to be hiding. He stuffed the little lion in his pocket as far as it would go, so its head was sticking out. Circling the table, Hamilton looked for anything else noteworthy. The only other thing was a trapdoor in the floor, on the opposite side of the table from the door. Someone entering the door wouldn't be able to see someone disappearing through it.

For a moment, Hamilton considered going back to Jefferson. The lion was already most likely all they needed to know, and there was a good chance that the trapdoor would only lead him down a rabbit hole. He likely wouldn't get another chance to investigate. And so, without another thought, Hamilton opened the trap door and shined his light down into its depths. There was a ladder in the shaft, and there was a floor in sight below. Hamilton stuck his phone in his mouth and lowered himself into the hole, closing the trapdoor after himself. At the bottom was a narrow passageway. Hamilton followed it to another shaft and ladder, which he climbed. Opening the trap door at the top, Hamilton felt a rush of cold night air. The sky shone above him, giving him more than enough light to climb onto the grass around the hole. The passage had led him to behind the bar. For good measure, Hamilton took a picture of where this secret was, and closed the trapdoor. It was almost indistinguishable from the grass around it. Only on close inspection could he see the tiny hole that served as the aboveground handle. Satisfied with his work, Hamilton tried stuffing the lion further into his pocket, and texted Jefferson to meet back in their hotel room.

Once both were there, Hamilton showed Jefferson the pictures of the room and the lion, standing proudly next to Jefferson's chair as Jefferson listened to the results of his investigation.

When his story was done, Jefferson examined the little lion more closely. "Stuffed animals are a classic smuggling trick, so well-known it's almost too good to be true. Are you sure that's what's going on?"

"We'll need hard proof. If we can get this to Laurens, I'm sure he'll be able to tell us if there's something inside it, and what it is."

"Is there time to mail it? We only have two nights left. It might be easier to go back early and deliver it ourselves."

Hamilton straightened up. "No, we can't go back yet. We'll be back there eventually."

"Well, then in the meantime, what are we supposed to do? This is what we came for."

"There's always more to do," Hamilton said with a little bit of a glare. "We can stay here for the next few days and start figuring out who is involved. Anyone who seems to know that someone got into that room and took something must be involved somehow. We can investigate those people, and come back with more than enough information, to help along any possible future jobs relating to this"

Jefferson frowned, and a hand unconsciously drifted to grip his left knee. "You know, most people would use the chance to take a break."

"I am not most people," Hamilton reminded him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Does this really surprise you?"

"No, I must say, it does not," Jefferson sighed, his exasperation making his subtle accent a little more pronounced.

Raising an eyebrow, Hamilton flexed his right hand to suppress the rising urge to write. "There's a reason Washington trusts me to do my job well, you know. If you were as dedicated as I am, he might actually listen to you."

Jefferson ignored his remark, and the two resumed their nighttime spying, starting with following the bartender home when they saw her leave the bar. Hamilton stayed to keep an eye on the bar, while Jefferson took their car after the bartender, though he did try to argue to stay. Hamilton shortly told him that he was the one who knew the most about the bar, which shut Jefferson up. When the bartender pulled into a driveway, Jefferson took note of the address, and watched her from across the street and down the street a few houses, until the last of her house's lights were out. Then, he returned.

Because they had neither the reason nor the equipment, they didn't bug anyone's houses, though Hamilton did go once more to the bar. The bartender seemed suspicious of him, so Hamilton acted natural so he could stay and watch for anyone she may converse with in a low voice. Before long, however, acting natural became flirting with a lady at the bar. Jefferson had a front row seat through the earpiece, and tried to focus more on the outside of the bar than the words being exchanged, though there was hardly anything worth watching. Hamilton made some rather unruly promises to whomever he was flirting with, and soon had invited her back to their hotel room.

Annoyed to no end, Jefferson stood up and muttered to himself a little as he went about the room, putting all of their work related artifacts out of sight in their suitcases, listening to the conversation in his ear to gauge how much time he had. He took his coat and left the room, trying not to limp. When the elevator stopped on their floor. Hamilton stepped out with an attractive ginger. The two men exchanged only the briefest of glances as Hamilton passed him. As he stepped into the cool night, Jefferson listened to Hamilton lock the hotel door and whisper sweet nothings to his giggling lover. It was clear by the time Jefferson was in their car that Hamilton would not be removing his earpiece. At first, Jefferson was tempted to do something to mess with them. The throbbing pain in his left leg convinced him against it. He lamented his partner for a few more minutes. The moaning started, and he quickly took out his earpiece to sit in silence.

The next morning, he waited until he saw the girl leave, before returning. Hamilton was miraculously asleep. Jefferson stopped himself from doing anything too quickly. At least it was the day they would be leaving. He did his best to ignore his pain as he went about the room, packing up their things. He had to stop every few minutes to lean against the wall or the table, before continuing. When everything was packed, he threw one of the suitcases onto the sleeping Hamilton. Naturally, Hamilton woke with a start.

"You owe me a big one," Jefferson told him coldly.

"What?" Hamilton asked sleepily. "Where is…?"

"She left." Hamilton pushed the suitcase off of himself and sat up, seeing Jefferson sitting on the bed, more annoyed that he had ever seen him before. "Get up and get dressed. If you so much as breathe in my direction, I will tell Washington that your death was an accident. Fair warning, it won't be."

As he got up, Hamilton realized that Jefferson's accent was coming through again, and he kept a little distance, wondering why. Jefferson said nothing as they loaded their car and hit the road. Somehow, the trip back managed to be longer than the trip there, due to the tense silence. Burr's favorite words, "Talk less, smile more" went through Hamilton's head as he drove. After several hours, he asked, "Are you going to say why your panties are in a knot?"

"No." Jefferson said shortly.

Hamilton glanced at him. "You really shut up? Is it that serious?"

"Even if it was, I wouldn't tell you. Shut up and drive. The sooner we're home, the better."

The garage of their agency couldn't have been a more welcome sight. Jefferson was quick to open his door and get out, though as soon as he put weight on his feet, he cursed and fell back onto the seat. Hamilton kept an eye on the hand on the top of the passenger door as he came around the car to stand in front of Jefferson, crossing his arms, getting concerned. "You've been off all day. Is something up?" Jefferson was staring determinedly at the cement below their feet, not answering him. "If this is about last night-"

"Alex. It's not that," Jefferson cut in. He sighed. "Help me up."

With Jefferson's arm draped over his shoulder, Hamilton watched his partner's attempt at walking. It was as if the difference his cane made was exaggerated. Jefferson was trying to keep his weight off of his left leg. As he brought Jefferson to Laurens, Hamilton ranted, "I knew something was wrong, you've been acting strangely all day. Are you sick or something? Why didn't you tell me something was wrong, you could have gotten- You could have ruined our operation and I don't even know why you're suddenly collapsing on me!"

When they had found him in the lab space, Laurens looked at them for a confused moment, and his eyes found the leg in question. He seemed to understand what was going on, and helped Hamilton sit Jefferson down, saying, "It needs to come off."

Jefferson tried to protest. "Laurens-"

"No, right now. You know you can't wear it this long," Laurens insisted.

Jefferson glanced up and met eyes with his confused partner. He turned away and mentally braced himself. "Fine."

As Hamilton watched, Laurens rolled up Jefferson's pants leg to reveal the last thing he could expect. Where his shin was supposed to be, there was instead a prosthetic leg, starting just below his knee. As Laurens took it off, Hamilton stuttered, "I-I didn't know…"

"That was kind of the point," Jefferson said, not looking at either of them.

"I-"

"Don't say another word."

Laurens stood up, and looked between them. "I'll be right back. Alex, make sure he doesn't get up."

Jefferson quickly insisted, "Wait, you don't have to get James, I'm-" The slam of a door cut him off. With Laurens gone, Jefferson turned on Hamilton, trying to seem threatening despite his vulnerable position. "I'm not about to tell your ass anything, so don't bother asking." He pointed a finger at him accusingly. "Honestly, if you could stay quiet for once in your life, that would be amazing. The last thing I need is a damn headache on top of all this."

When Hamilton opened his mouth, it was not the insult or derogatory remark that Jefferson expected. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, but are you doing ok? You've been hiding pain for the last few days, right? I don't know anything about this, but can I help, in any way?"

For a few seconds, Jefferson didn't know what to say. He stared at Hamilton, before his eyes were drawn back to the floor. "I'm, going to be fine." Before he could realize, he was telling him a little more. "It's mostly phantom limb pain, it'll go away after a while."

Hamilton stayed there with him for a minute more, as Laurens returned with Maddison. The partners weren't sure what to say. Maddison brought Jefferson's cane with him, and shooed Hamilton away with it. Laurens went with Hamilton to report to Washington, and to unload the car and bring their technology back to Eliza to be checked in. Hamilton told Laurens about what they had learned, and entrusted the stuffed lion to him. As it was already late in the day, Hamilton didn't get a chance to see Jefferson again before he was told that Jefferson and Maddison had left.

Late that night, as he was writing about that week, Hamilton's phone vibrated. He ignored it, but it vibrated again. He paused in his writing and looked at it on his desk, screen down. It vibrated again. Hamilton set down his pen and picked up his phone. He was getting a call, from Jefferson. He hesitated, and hesitated some more. Deciding that Jefferson would leave a message if it was really important, Hamilton set his phone down and continued to write. A few minutes later, the phone vibrated once more, to tell Hamilton that he had a voicemail to listen to. Curious, Hamilton played it.

"Hey, it's me," he heard Jefferson say. "Well, you probably know that." There was a pause and a sigh. "Look, about today. I shouldn't have been so short with you this morning. Honestly, it's not my business if you're bringing girls to bed. Really, this pain has been building up all week, and I took it out on you even though it isn't your problem." Jefferson paused. "Again, I'd really appreciate if this didn't get out." Another pause. "I'm doing fine, by the way. Uh, I don't know, I thought you'd like to know, considering how concerned you looked…" The corner of Hamilton's mouth turned up a small smile. "James gave me quite the lecture about taking care of myself. I don't think he'd let me come in tomorrow unless I slept it all off, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?" Hamilton looked down at his hands. "Well, that's all I suppose. Try to get some sleep, alright?" The voicemail ended. Hamilton looked at his phone for a few moments, and set it down, going back to writing.

When they saw each other again, Jefferson once again had his cane in hand, and did seem to be quite a bit better. At first, they didn't speak to each other. When Laurens came by to tell them what he found in the lion, it was as if nothing had happened between them.

As Laurens told them, the lion did seem to be a smuggling tool. Inside, nestled in its stuffing, was several small baggies of tea leaves. As strange as it was, that was not all. The tea leaves were laced with ricin, a poison deadly at small doses.

This report and its accompanying set of photo evidence went through Washington to their client, who naturally called the authorities. The bar was investigated, and the secret room was found, but it had already been emptied of its boxes. The bartender was questioned, but claimed innocence. With no leads, the investigation couldn't be continued.

Months passed. While they went on a few more missions, the sudden reveal of Jefferson's leg became old news. It was almost never relevant, so Hamilton often forgot. Jefferson seemed to be quite happy to not have it mentioned. It wasn't long before things were back to the way they were before. When April came, Maddison planned to go to dinner with Jefferson for his birthday, as was customary for them. Unbeknownst to Jefferson, Maddison had invited Laurens, Lafayette and Hamilton to join them. Mulligan was away on a job with Angelica and Burr. Jefferson accepted the new additions to his yearly tradition. Since it had been a while since they had been together, they took the time to catch up.

Maddison told them that he was still seeing the girl Jefferson had set him up with. Lafayette pressed for details, but Hamilton turned it around and made him spill details of his own. He seemed to blush a little as he admitted that he had been flirting with Peggy for a while. "I asked if it hurt when she fell from heaven. She said 'yes, but it felt great when I fell for you'," he said, smiling as he stared into his glass of water.

"That's basically an invitation to ask her to dinner," Laurens said, leaning back in his chair.

"More importantly," Hamilton cut in, "When can we expect the wedding?"

Lafayette grinned more and waved his hand dismissively. "One thing at a time, Alex. Besides," he said, changing the subject, "What about you, are you still avoiding an actual relationship?" Laurens snickered, and tried to hide it.

"You laugh, but unlike you, John Laurens, I can get in a relationship as easily as I can pick up women. I just choose not to," Hamilton told him.

Maddison smiled and eyed Jefferson from across the table. "That sounds like someone else I know."

Jefferson sighed as Hamilton turned on him. "Didn't you say you're 36 now? What are you waiting for, you're almost out of time!"

"I don't see you doing anything to avoid my situation," Jefferson said, not looking at him.

Laurens leaned forward to grin at Lafayette. "Why don't we help?" He looked between Hamilton and Jefferson. "I'm sure we could find both of you someone by the end of the year."

Hamilton and Jefferson both protested, but Lafayette cut them off. "I think it's a great idea, I think I already have someone in mind," he said with a sly wink to Laurens. The two looked to Maddison, who seemed unsure, but agreed to lend his input.

As soon as they had all parted ways and Jefferson had a moment to speak freely with his good friend, he reminded Maddison that he was in no way helpless. Maddison patiently said it could be worth a shot to play along.

Thankfully, it seemed that whatever plan Laurens and Lafayette had in mind, they were not in a hurry to put it into action. When Mulligan returned, he agreed to help with whatever it was, though the three didn't even tell Maddison what the plan was. When they had the chance, they would visit Hamilton and Jefferson.

On one such occasion, Lafayette asked why they still called each other by their last names, since they had at least earned the right to be called friends. Jefferson and Hamilton shared a look, and Jefferson reasoned, "There's no way he remembers my first name anyway, he hasn't exactly needed to know-"

"It's Thomas," Hamilton said, not breaking eye contact. Since Jefferson was surprised to silence, Hamilton went on, "Honestly, what kind of person doesn't know their rival's full name? On top of that, I know that you don't have a middle name. I wish you did, so it could be something embarrassing like 'Claire' or 'Margaret'. And don't pretend you don't know my name, you've heard it several times, and used it exactly once."

Jefferson glanced at Lafayette, who watched them, and then back to Hamilton. "How do you know the exact number of times I've used your first name? I don't remember that."

"It was when we got back from the North Carolina mission," Hamilton said easily. "You seemed to be pretty distracted at the time. I don't blame you for not remembering."

Lafayette grinned at them. "You know, they say that a person's impulsive decisions like that are the best way to tell what's going on in their head." Jefferson cut that conversation short, and returned to work, though frequently distracted by memories he was keen to forget about.

A month after the promise to find the partners relationships, there had been no attempts. The influx of work had slowed again, and when they had nothing better to do, Hamilton suggested to Jefferson that they find something productive to do with their time. He naturally already had something in mind. That's how he and Jefferson ended up with two of the few swords that the agency had, and Eliza supervised them as they sparred. It was clear from the start that there would be no rules besides 'no injuries', as Hamilton didn't hesitate to throw in a few punches. It made their 'no injuries' rule a lot harder to follow, but it certainly kept things interesting. As the two dueled, Eliza called Laurens to be on hand in case something went unexpectedly. He seemed pretty delighted to watch with her, shooing the sparring pair away whenever they got too close.

At one point, Jefferson managed to disarm Hamilton. As his sword skittered across the floor, Hamilton shook out his arms and raised his fists. "Don't think I'm done yet."

"Stubborn as ever, I see." Jefferson readied his sword. "Your funeral, pretty boy."

As Jefferson watched, Hamilton's dark eyes narrowed. "What did you call me?"

"You heard me," Jefferson said with a smirk.

Hamilton clenched his right fist harder and rushed his opponent. Not expecting that, Jefferson raised his sword to defend, but it didn't stop Hamilton from tackling him to the ground, making him let go of the sword as he hit the ground. The clang of the metal on the cement floor went unheard as Hamilton engaged Jefferson in a wrestling match. Laurens took a few steps closer to keep an eye on them. On the ground, it was pretty clear that Hamilton had an advantage. Jefferson gave him a fight, but it wasn't long before Hamilton had pinned him, and Jefferson had to tap out. Hamilton let him go and sat up, while Jefferson lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling as they caught their breath.

"You good?" Hamilton asked.

Jefferson laughed a little and shook his head. "Where the hell did you learn to wrestle?"

With a short laugh of his own, Hamilton looked over to the shelves across the room. "The life of an outspoken teenaged orphan isn't exactly a walk in the park."

Laurens took the chance to confiscate the swords that lay discarded on the floor.

Jefferson looked up at his partner, and held out a hand. "Truce?"

Taking the hand in his, Hamilton responded, "Only for now."

With one of his charming smiled, Jefferson said, "I can live with that."

Hamilton held his eyes for a moment longer and then let go of Jefferson, standing up. "Well, since that's settled, I'll see if Washington has anything for us to do." Not waiting for anyone, he left. Jefferson waited a few seconds, before heaving himself up and collecting his cane from Eliza. Laurens insisted on giving him a brief examination to make sure he really wasn't injured, and asked Jefferson to send Hamilton back for the same.

Upstairs, Washington told Jefferson that he hadn't seen Hamilton. When he found him, he was on his way to his desk, with a stack of papers in his hand. He wouldn't explain what it was, but put them in his bottom desk drawer, the only drawer that locked.

Personally, Laurens was excited about his plan. The best part about it was that it wouldn't take much, and the two wouldn't realize the plan was in action. When Jefferson was having lunch in the break room, at his usual time (Maddison telling him when that is), Laurens brought Hamilton through it on a walk, to get him more coffee.

As he hoped, Jefferson was there, skimming the newspaper, across the table from Burr. As Laurens and Hamilton passed him, Laurens pretended to trip, and grabbed Hamilton to not fall. This made Hamilton accidentally spill hot coffee on Jefferson's shoulder. Jefferson jumped up and started waving air at his shoulder to cool it off.

"What the- Hamilton, watch what you're doing!" Jefferson said, sending him a glare.

Hamilton was quick to set the rest of his coffee on the table and go to get paper towels, saying as he did, "Sorry, hold on!" He came back and helped Jefferson try to wipe some of the coffee off of his shirt. Laurens did his best to hide his grin as they went together to find something else Jefferson could wear, leaving Laurens and Burr alone. Laurens was just about to leave when Burr spoke up.

"Laurens, don't think I didn't see that you caused that." Laurens ignored him, so he said, "Washington won't look kindly on someone trying to break apart his handpicked team."

Shaking his head, Laurens turned to him. "That's not it at all. A few of us are trying to get them together. You wouldn't understand."

Burr raised his eyebrows. "That's a terrible idea for many reasons. The first of which being that you shouldn't meddle in someone's love life like that." Laurens rolled his eyes. "The second being that you know personally how Hamilton gets. I've read their files more than anyone else here. If there is one thing that is clear, it's that Jefferson is a very loyal person. You've probably seen the meaning behind the sentence that reads, 'Extremely protective of the few friends he has.' Add in the fact that he's in his mid-thirties, and you get someone who won't settle for something as casual as Hamilton is with his one night stands." Laurens looked towards where Hamilton and Jefferson had left. "Do you even know if they're open to a relationship with another man?"

"No," Laurens said slowly. "I mean, I know Hamilton. But Jefferson won't tell anyone."

Burr nodded. "Just another reason why what you're doing is a horrible idea. Even if they do get together, do I need to remind you what happened with Hamilton's last office romance? Since Hamilton and Jefferson go on their missions together, Jefferson will only get a front row seat to his crushing betrayal. Then what? They won't be able to work together. Stop interfering while you still can, you don't want to be the cause of that mess."

Laurens looked at Burr soberly. Burr didn't always talk a lot. He was opposed to sharing his opinions. But this time, he seemed to have a point. Laurens remembered how even he, an outsider, could feel the hurt of Hamilton's disloyalty. It had been the very reason why he hadn't pursued a relationship with him. If he could stop someone else from being hurt by Hamilton, shouldn't he warn them? The only reason there wasn't lasting damage is because Eliza forgave and moved on. Someone who wouldn't hesitate to stand up to Hamilton wouldn't be as graceful.

Laurens looked at the coffee Hamilton had left behind. "Oh god, I've made a terrible mistake…"


	4. Chapter 4

Dressed in the uniform of a television repairman, Hamilton knocked on the door to a house far in the suburbs. It was already proving to be uncomfortable in the warm summer air. In a few seconds, a man opened a door and let Hamilton in. He greeted this man warmly, and was led inside as the man explained how his television had suddenly stopped working in the middle of his baseball game. He then left Hamilton to fix it. His mistake. After a few minutes, Hamilton made sure the man was gone, and quietly set up a camera with a view of most of the room. He checked on the man and snuck back to the man's bedroom, where he hid another one on the top of a door frame. Returning to the man's living room, he took a look out the front window, and met eyes with Jefferson, who was across the road in a car, pretending to read a map.

"There's the signal, turn the power back on," Jefferson said quietly to himself.

In his ear, he heard Angelica's voice. "On it."

A few moments later, the "broken" television came back to life.

"There it is," Hamilton said. "A wire in the back was getting loose, I went ahead and fixed it back up for you."

The man came back, thanked him, and Hamilton went on his way, taking the fake repair van down the road. Jefferson waited a while, and followed. The three agents took different routes, but had the same destination, meeting back at their agency. Together, they found Eliza, who was watching the camera feed. So far, there was nothing of interest, she told them. They would have to wait for a while.

The man in question had already seemed like a person of interest, so they had followed his routine for a while. A few months later, however, he had showed up a few times on the security camera of a very unusual place, far out of his way. It had been enough to warrant investigating him again, to see what may have caused such an uncharacteristic change. Now that the cameras were in place, all they could do was wait.

"I have to say, that cheap uniform made it look like you had a very feminine waist," Jefferson teased as Hamilton changed into his own clothes.

"You're just jealous because you couldn't pull off an all beige uniform," Hamilton responded from beyond the bathroom door.

Jefferson snickered. "To be fair though, you couldn't pull it off either. And from how long you're taking, you can't pull it off in any sense of the phrase. I hope you aren't waiting for me to come in and take it off for you, because I'm not going to."

"Good, I don't want you in here anyways. Keep your cooties to yourself, weirdo." Hamilton said, and opened the door, tucking in his shirt with the other hand.

Jefferson leaned away from the wall next to the door. "What, are you actually going to look presentable now? Now that you have no reason to?"

"I wouldn't say there's no reason," Hamilton said, and looked Jefferson up and down. "It's not like I'm wearing a bright pink suit."

Noticing them standing close together, Laurens made his way over to them. "Hey, I heard you were back, how did it go?"

Hamilton smiled his smug smile at Laurens. "Obviously it went flawlessly, because I was there."

Jefferson rolled his eyes as he whacked Hamilton's leg with his cane, saying, "To everyone's surprise. I was prepared for the likely event that you abandon reason and attack the guy."

"And yet I didn't. I know how to do my job."

Jefferson raised his eyebrows and eyed his partner. "Face it, you'd be lost without me. I swear you're only making an attempt to look more presentable because I look so good every day."

Hamilton straightened up and unabashedly stared right back up at Jefferson. "And sometimes I swear you're only keeping it up in this warm weather because you know I like it."

Laurens paled and looked from Hamilton to Jefferson. To his great relief, Jefferson looked just as confused as he did amused. "What?"

Crossing his arms, Hamilton looked away. "You heard me." He turned and walked away from them, towards his desk.

Laurens stayed with Jefferson, who gave Laurens an unsure glance. "Well, that was a strange way to say that someone's outfit suits them well."

Jumping on the chance to reaffirm a different meaning, Laurens said, "It's not often that he gives a compliment to a friend, it usually comes out more flirtatious on accident."

"I guess I can see that," Jefferson said, and started after Hamilton. Laurens watched him go, hoping that Jefferson bought it.

When Jefferson joined Hamilton at their desks, Hamilton was intently focused on writing something. When he leaned closer to see what it was, Hamilton moved to block his view. "Don't you have something better to do?" Hamilton asked him.

"I suppose I do. But that means you also have something better to do than write nonsense," Jefferson shot back.

With a sigh, Hamilton said, "If you must know, I'm writing out our mission. It helps me organize my thoughts."

Jefferson pulled his chair over and sat down. "So you're keeping a diary."

"It is not a diary."

"It sure sounds like one. Don't worry, I get it, I'm just such an amazing partner that you can't help but write down our jobs together so you don't forget."

Hamilton set down his pen and looked at Jefferson. "For someone who's supposed to be smart, you're really kind of stupid, you know that? And not even just a little bit stupid. Stupid in the way that you're still a child."

"I could say the same about you, more often than not."

Before the day was through, Washington called a meeting, gathering everyone into the conference room. As soon as everyone was present, he wasted no time. "I just got off the phone with Mr. Willard Armitage, who you may know as the owner of the Armitage skyscraper."

"What would a billionaire want with us?" Peggy asked, getting right to the real question.

Washington nodded at her. "I'm glad you asked. He has reason to believe that someone is going to try to kill him at his next party. He has hired us to send a pair of agents to attend and, if his suspicion is true, to neutralize the threat before it can happen." Hamilton and Jefferson exchanged a glance. If there was ever a two person team capable of such a mission, it would be them. "However," Washington continued, "I struggle to think of the best pair to send."

"With all due respect," Jefferson said pointing a finger at himself and Hamilton, "I think we have this covered."

"I wish it were that simple," Washington said.

"You did say it was a pair. And honestly it seems like it could be too dangerous for a pair not already trained to work together like us," Hamilton argued.

With a small shake of his head, Washington negated his whole argument. "I'm afraid I don't see a way I can send you both. Mr. Armitage made it very clear that this event was almost exclusively for the wealthy and their spouses." As Laurens opened his mouth to speak, Washington addressed his protest. "This is not a political climate that is open to same sex unions. I'm afraid it must be a man and a woman whom I send."

"You can send me with Hamilton," Angelica suggested. "I know how to handle myself with grace and poise."

"Hamilton would be no good," Burr chimed in. "He's too unrefined. Anyone else would be a better choice."

Hamilton glared down the table at him. "No one asked you."

"I'm stating the truth. You don't belong anywhere near an event like this. You'd stand out like a sore thumb."

"Enough," Washington said, cutting off Hamilton's response. "While debate is good, I ask for solutions, not an argument."

A moment of silence spread through the room. Washington looked to Eliza, who was deep in thought. She noticed his gaze and spoke up, "I was just thinking, what if there was a way to use Jefferson and Hamilton after all?"

"Like how?" Washington prompted.

"Like, if… now that I go to say it out loud, it sounds stupid."

"Go on, any idea is welcome right now."

Eliza clasped her hands in her lap and briefly glanced at Hamilton. "Well, what if we… dressed Hamilton up as a woman? Jefferson would never be passable, but if we shaved Hamilton's face and did his hair and nails and makeup…"

Peggy leaned forward so she could catch Eliza's eyes. "I am so in! Dibs on doing hair!"

Hamilton looked from the women to Washington and back again. "There is no way I'm letting you dress me as a woman!"

Washington considered the suggestion. "It seems like we don't have many other options. Hamilton, I made your partnership especially for jobs of this type. I trust that you'll be able to handle it with the added difficulty of passing as the opposite sex?"

"Of course I can, but-"

"Then don't let me down. I'm counting on you."

Hamilton saw that he had little choice, and it was obvious that he didn't like it. "Yes sir."

As they made preparations for this new mission, they watched their recently planted cameras, and found that the man in question had a new tattoo; one of a golden crown, just above his wrist on the back of his forearm, where a long sleeved shirt would cover it up. Since this change was so shallow, they gave up on him, and focused their attention to their next objective.

At the end of the month, the day of their mission finally came. Peggy had kept her plans for Hamilton a secret, and now took him into the women's bathroom to bring it all together. It took a few hours, in which Jefferson changed into his sharp black suit, and was then left waiting. Time dragged on as he listened to Peggy working with a protesting Hamilton. After an eternity, the door opened, Hamilton ready at last.

"Finally!" Jefferson said, his accent exaggerated by his impatience. "I was starting to think I'd actually die of old age before you-"

Before him stood a completely new person. Hamilton had been completely made over, to an almost unrecognizable level. The beard had been shaved off to reveal flawless skin. His dark hair was parted on the side and pulled back, soft curls touching the shoulders that were exposed by the slim forest green dress he wore. Hamilton was clearly already in heels, because he stood noticeably taller than before. Peggy had gone all out in his makeover, and had made Hamilton's face look far more feminine than it was normally. The look was completed with clip on earrings and a choker. But none of this drew the eye. The center of attention was Hamilton's maroon red lips. Next to her dark coffee hair and muted eye shadow, its decisive color drew the eye.

Jefferson didn't realize he had fallen silent until Peggy came out a moment after Hamilton, chasing him with her comb in hand. "Hold on, I'm not done yet!"

"Well I am," Hamilton said, passing Jefferson and grabbing his arm. "Plenty of women have flat chests. Come on Jefferson, we're leaving." He pulled Jefferson behind him as he left Peggy behind.

It took a few steps for Jefferson to walk properly, and he fell in step with Hamilton's fast pace, trying not to look at his partner as they went to their mission's vehicle, a sleek black sports car. He didn't say anything as Hamilton put in the Mission Impossible soundtrack. Neither said a word as they crossed the city, or even as they turned off the music and pulled into their parking space. As Jefferson got out and came around to open his door, Hamilton sighed and sat up in his seat, putting on a more neutral face of a small smile. For things to go well, he knew he would have to live Burr's favorite advice; Talk less, smile more.

Hamilton stood up with as much grace as he could muster, and when Jefferson had locked the car, he slid his hand around Jefferson's arm to be walked the short distance to the door of the classy hotel whose ballroom they would be in.

"I'll need to remember to refer to you with female pronouns. Though, when you look like that, I don't think it will be hard to remember," Jefferson said with a bit of an awkward laugh.

Though it was clear that he was trying to make light of their situation, Hamilton was not about to put up with it. "I didn't let Peggy do this for nothing. If you blow my cover, I will be the one lowering you into your grave."

Inside, Hamilton followed Jefferson, led by his arm, as Jefferson took care of the business of getting them in the ballroom. As they had hoped, most of the guests had already arrived, and were making conversation, while a few danced near the chamber ensemble. It was fairly clear that the man in the silver suit was their client, the host. As was typical, there were no faces that stood out as suspicious. Everyone was dressed formally, and seemed to wear their affluence on their wristwatches and hairpieces. Most of the attendees were older, and therefore almost entirely dismissible as possible threats. That was only considering physical violence. If gunfire were considered a possibility, then it would be considerably harder to narrow down.

They spent the first hour of the party watching people. It seemed that everyone had a good relationship with Mr. Armitage. All the smiles they saw seemed to be genuine. Hamilton focused his attention to the staff. It was very clear that the servers worked for the hotel, as they had the name of the hotel on their vests. There was one who seemed to be more unusual than the others. She had skin the color of sand, with long dark hair pulled back into a professional bun. In every way, she was the model of a perfect employee, except for one detail. There seemed to be a small bump over the bottom of her sternum. It was the same place where Angelica kept her concealed carry weapon on the days she wore it. Hamilton lightly nudged Jefferson and pointed her out.

As soon as his eyes found her, Jefferson muttered, "My God, it can't be…"

"Do you know her?" Hamilton asked in a whisper.

It took Jefferson a few seconds to respond. "That has to be her." He started towards her, but Hamilton held him firmly in place.

"Jefferson, do I need to remind you that we are undercover? If someone recognizes you here, that's not a good thing," Hamilton hissed.

He stopped, but didn't take his eyes off of the server. "She's fine, she worked for my old agency." He frowned, realizing what he was saying. "She shouldn't be alive, what is she doing here of all places…?"

Tightening his hold on Jefferson's arm, Hamilton started pulling him in the opposite direction, saying, "She just became our top suspect. We need to investigate the staff-only areas."

Jefferson tried to stop them. "She's already on the inside, she can help us."

Hamilton did stop, but only so he could face his partner and speak in a lower voice. "You and Maddison were the only survivors. Whoever she is, she shouldn't be here. And she happens to be armed. If she sees you, we're through."

Though he clearly didn't agree, Jefferson conceded. "Fine."

"There's a door to my left that the servers have been using. We start back there. If anything happens out here, we split up."

Jefferson nodded a little to show he heard, and looked around the room. Everyone seemed to be distracted, so he placed Hamilton's arm back in his, and they casually made their way to the staff door. Another look told them that no one was watching, so they slipped through the door. When it closed behind them, the sounds of the music was almost completely cut off. Hamilton waited for nothing, and started down the hallway as fast as heels would take him. He tried every door he passed, with Jefferson right behind him, though none were open. They turned the corner and kept going. The first open door, they went in. Of all places, they found themselves in a spacious broom closet.

When the door closed behind them, the light was almost all cut out. After taking a breath, Hamilton turned to Jefferson. "Tell me about her. That agent."

Jefferson laughed a little. "What, are you jealous?"

"She is our prime suspect," Hamilton reminded him with a sneer.

"Fine," Jefferson said with a sigh, and he carefully leaned against the back of the door. "Her name is Mariah Reynolds. I worked with her on a number of occasions. She was never the best at combat, but she knew psychological warfare. She could seduce a man to talk about things he normally wouldn't. That was most of her field work with us. Other than that, I don't know a whole lot about her."

"She's carrying a gun tonight. Whether she is friendly or not, it's reason enough to keep an eye on her when we're trying to stop a murder."

When they were sure no one was coming, the pair slipped back into the hallway. They passed the employee's elevator, and slipped into the kitchen just beyond it. As they split up to start looking around, the sound of approaching footsteps pierced through the swinging doors, and Hamilton and Jefferson, on opposite sides of the room, dropped to the floor behind the countertop islands. The footsteps stopped outside the door, and they listened to the door swing open.

From his position behind the island nearest to the door, Hamilton held his hair away from his face and listened as the footsteps came closer, and stopped. He readied himself to move. The footsteps started approaching. Hamilton dove around the island to the opposite side, and pressed himself against the cupboards. The footsteps didn't turn, heading instead for the door to the refrigerator on the far wall. As soon as the door closed behind the server, Hamilton stood as much as he dared to and made a dash for the far side of the kitchen, where Jefferson was. He had only taken two steps when his long dress caught under his foot, sending him faceplanting onto the tiled floor. Any moment, the server would come out and have a clear view of him.

As Hamilton started to push himself up, a strong hand grabbed his forearm. Hamilton was pulled across the floor and behind the next island. Hamilton gathered himself and his dress behind the island as the refrigerator door opened. He and Jefferson listened with baited breath as the server stepped out and stopped. They set something on the countertop, and the agents heard the fabric sounds of the server bending down to pick something up. Hamilton paled when he realized he had one foot on the cold floor. A confused Jefferson met his eyes, and Hamilton pulled his dress up slightly to show his bare foot.

Jefferson reached in his jacket to rest his hand on his concealed pistol. The footsteps of the server moved away from the counter, and out the door.

"It's this damn dress," Hamilton muttered immediately. "I would be fine if-"

Jefferson put a finger to his lips. "There's still time to figure this out. People don't usually pay attention to each other's shoes." He moved away from the island and opened a cupboard, scanning what was inside. "I was thinking, poison is the most likely weapon. Any other method would leave easily traceable evidence." He closed that cupboard as Hamilton joined his search.

"That makes more work for us," Hamilton reminded him. "With as many people as there are here, we couldn't possibly watch everyone ourselves."

Closing another cupboard, Jefferson stopped. "Honestly, it would be easier to watch for symptoms of poisoning than to prevent a poisoning itself."

Footsteps passed through the hall, and the agents ducked out of sight again, though the kitchen doors remained unmoved. When there was silence once again, Hamilton motioned to the door, and then in the direction they had come from. Jefferson nodded a little, and the two crept to the kitchen door. After peering out, they slipped into the hallway and moved as quietly as they could down the corridor. They heard a door open behind them, and a woman's voice saying, "They could be anywhere. You two check that way, I'll go this way."

Hamilton pushed Jefferson into the closet they had hidden in just before. "What are you thinking, they're bound to check here!" Jefferson hissed between gritted teeth. As the footsteps approached, Hamilton pushed Jefferson farther back, until he was backed against the shelves of cleaning supplies. Before he could protest, Hamilton pulled him down into a kiss, wrapping his leg around Jefferson's. The door to the closet opened, and Jefferson quickly put his hands on Hamilton's waist. Just as the hallway's light shone on them, they were left back in the darkness. The footsteps faded down the hallway.

Jefferson closed his eyes in the relief that they hadn't been caught. He then realized that the person in his arms was Hamilton. He could feel his face grow warm as he moved Hamilton away from him. "Have you not heard of a stage kiss?" he asked a little too loudly.

"Lecture me about theatre later," Hamilton said, going to the door and grabbing the handle. "If they had seen my bare foot, it would have been over."

Jefferson followed close behind, lowering his voice again, pointing at the hand on the handle. "You're supposed to put your thumb between yourself and the other person, it really isn't- …hold on." He pushed Hamilton's arm away from the door, kneeling down to look more closely at it. A small mark carved into the paint had caught his eye. He felt it with a finger, tracing the small shape of a crown. "Do you remember the North Carolina mission?"

Hamilton lowered himself to Jefferson's level, saying, "Most of it. That was the one with the trick door."

Jefferson moved so Hamilton could see the small crown. "Isn't this the same symbol?"

"It looks like it. Do you think there's a secret here too?"

"We're already here, we may as well look while we have the chance."

Jefferson took his phone from his pocket and shone the dimly lit screen, first on the door, and then around at the shelves. Nothing seemed to be out of place. Hamilton checked the stability of the stepladder, and climbed up it to see the top shelves. As he was focusing on the shelves, he bumped his head against the tile ceiling. The tile, however, wasn't loose. Hamilton stepped back down a rung, and pushed on the tile with his hand, before trying the ones around it. After listening for a moment to be sure there was no footsteps outside the closet, Hamilton waved at Jefferson to get his attention, and held out his hand, in which Jefferson placed his phone. Hamilton put it in his mouth for a moment as he climbed another rung and pushed a loose tile up into the ceiling. Jefferson stayed nearby in case of a fall as Hamilton peered up into the newly created hole, taking the phone from his mouth and shining it towards the tile that hadn't moved. Hamilton passed the phone down to Jefferson and carefully brought a cardboard box from inside the ceiling. Jefferson put his phone away and took it as Hamilton descended the ladder.

Inside the box was an unusual discovery. Several uniforms for the hotel, all with the same name sewn on. More than that, each uniform was for a different staff position. One was a chef's. Another was a custodian's. Another appeared to be a bellboy's. All were tailored to be worn by a woman.

As soon as the box was stashed where they found it, Jefferson and Hamilton snuck back out to the ballroom, and mingled within the crowd of guests as they looked around for Mr. Armitage. Hamilton stayed obediently on Jefferson's arm as they made their way to him, and greeted him with a handshake. Jefferson used it as his chance to lean closer to his ear, and whisper that they suspect poison. Mr. Armitage made polite conversation for a few moments, before letting them go, and making his way to what must have been his bodyguard at the side of the room. Within a few minutes, all food had been stopped, and no drinks were served without passing a smell test. Mr. Armitage found them again and thanked them, inviting them to stay for as long as they'd like, sending Jefferson a knowing wink.

Confused, Jefferson looked at his partner, who studied his face for a moment and then looked away as he realized what the wink was about. "Perhaps we should stop by the bathroom," Hamilton suggested, already pulling Jefferson in the direction of the bathroom signs.

"What? Is there something on my face?" Jefferson asked, obligingly walking with Hamilton.

"Well, yes. You could say that," Hamilton said, avoiding looking at him.

Facing himself in the mirror, it took a moment for Jefferson to realize what it was. When he noticed it, his eyes dropped to his hands on the counter for a moment, and he straightened up, and glanced around for the nearest paper towels. It took a little bit of trial and error to figure out how to remove Hamilton's lipstick stains from his lips. He rejoined Hamilton outside, and neither knew what to say. They both examined the wallpaper across the hall. Jefferson cleared his throat. "I did say you should have used a stage kiss."

"I still have no idea what that is," Hamilton said.

After a moment of trying to figure out how to further explain, Jefferson gave up and cupped Hamilton's face, placing his thumb over Hamilton's dark red lips as he bent down to kiss him. Hamilton hadn't felt a thing, yet Jefferson backed away and showed Hamilton his thumb. It was the only thing now showing evidence of any intimacy.

Back in the ballroom, the two let the last of their unsure tension dissolve, Hamilton allowing Jefferson to dance with him. As a song ended, one of the servers wove towards them, and stopped in front of them, telling them that Jefferson had a call waiting for him at the front desk. As Jefferson went with the server, Hamilton took a moment to breathe. His respite didn't last long. He realized with overwhelming dread that the server had used Jefferson's real name.

Keeping his movements at a delicate pace was a challenge. As soon as Hamilton was out of the ballroom, he lifted the front of his dress a little and walked with more intent, searching for where the server had taken his partner. A glance told him they were not at the front desk. The next check was the last place he hoped to find them. Hamilton jogged through the staff only corridor, ignoring the staring faces. When he passed the closet, he checked for good measure. It was empty of life. Past the kitchen, one door had faint noises coming behind it. Hamilton lifted his dress and removed a small pistol from its thigh holster. He listened with his ear to the door for a moment, and heard the unmistakable sound of a scuffle.

Hamilton threw the door open and raised his pistol at the nearest person. Maria Reynolds stared back at him, calmly attatching a silencer to her own gun. Jefferson used the sudden arrival to his advantage, swiftly kicking one of his two attackers. The man fell to the floor and stayed there. The other kept his distance.

Hamilton and Reynolds stared at each other for a moment, before she looked bored and pointed her gun at Jefferson. "I know you aren't allowed to shoot," she said, her voice smooth as honey.

"I'm not great at following the rules," Hamilton replied unflinchingly.

Tilting her head back, she looked Hamilton up and down, seeing that he had only one shoe on. "Unfortunately for you, my orders were clear. One way or another, neither of you will walk out of this room alive."

Hamilton glanced at Jefferson, and saw him slowly crouch a little, ready to jump. Meeting Maria Reynolds's eyes again, Hamilton smirked. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not good at dying."

As she opened her mouth to reply to that, she was tackled to the floor. Hamilton stomped on her hand with his remaining shoe and picked up her gun. He pointed it at her, and the other at her co-conspirators. They gave Jefferson their guns on his command.

It was clear after a few minutes that questioning them would be a waste of time, so Jefferson took their pictures with his phone and made a few notes about approximate height and weight. Since they couldn't kill them, Hamilton stayed put as Jefferson brought the hotel's security to handle the three prisoners. With the threat neutralized, they went back to take a picture of the small etched crown that had tipped them off to another secret, before rejoining the party.

Hamilton sat down to give up on shoes altogether, when one of the remaining staff members brought the missing shoe to them. Hamilton grumbled a little before putting it back on. When the next song ended, Jefferson flashed his charming smile and bowed a little, holding out a hand as he asked Hamilton for one more dance. Hamilton noticed that the lipstick mark was still on his thumb. He smirked a little and daintily placed his hand in Jefferson's, for once enjoying acting like the lady he looked like.

The pair stayed until Mr. Armitage left, just as a formality. The sounds of Mission Impossible accompanied them back to the agency, where Hamilton was glad to finally be rid of the heels and jewelry. Jefferson waited for him, his nice suit hung in a garment bag. Peggy had left behind makeup remover, which Hamilton gladly used, though he hesitated for a moment before rubbing off his lipstick. He emerged from the bathroom as himself, and sighed a content sigh.

He met Jefferson's eyes, and Jefferson said, "Finally, I won't have to be seen with some cross dresser."

"So you admit I look better this way?" Hamilton teased.

Jefferson shrugged. "What can I say, it's growing on me."

They went side by side out the front door. Hamilton looked up at Jefferson again, and frowned. "I think your face is starting to swell. Did they beat you up?"

"Only a little," Jefferson said dismissively. "Nothing I didn't repay."

"Still, make sure you put some ice on it tonight."

Surprised by how genuine he sounded, Jefferson looked down at his partner, and met concerned eyes. For a moment, he forgot what he had said. He blinked and looked out to the street. "I'll do that if you actually get decent sleep tonight."

Hamilton laughed a little and dropped his eyes to the pavement. "I can't make any promises."

After a moment of silence, they parted ways.


	5. Chapter 5

If Laurens didn't know better, he would think something changed. He heard from Hamilton that he and Jefferson had an adventure at the fancy party they had attended, but beyond the same few key moments, they didn't say much. No pictures of Hamilton had been taken, and when asked where the dress went, Peggy would always grin and fall silent. Jefferson sported a new black eye as a testament to their success. Maddison insisted on sitting Jefferson down for a proper examination when he heard about the fight. Hamilton told them all the story of how he had swooped in and saved Jefferson, bragging that Jefferson owed him his life. As Laurens watched them leave, Jefferson and Hamilton seemed closer than ever before. Not only were they physically closer, they really seemed to be listening to each other. From a work standpoint, this was excellent. On a personal note, Laruens was unsettled.

"Has something happened to them?" he asked aloud.

A few feet behind him, settling back at the computer, Maddison answered, "Nothing besides what Hamilton just told us about."

Laurens looked back at him curiously. "How can you say that with so much confidence?"

"Thomas tells me everything," he said, not looking up. "If something else happened, I would know about it."

"You don't think there's a chance they would… yknow." Maddison gave Laurens a puzzled look over his shoulder. "Get together. Hook up. Fall in love. That sort of thing."

A second passed by, and then Maddison turned to face Laurens, resting an arm on the desk. "Are you referring to when you and Lafayette swore to find them both dates by the end of the year?"

A little uncomfortable, Laurens looked away, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Yeah."

"If it makes you feel better, I knew it would fail from the beginning."

"How?"

Maddison gazed at Laurens unblinkingly. "If he hasn't told you, then I can't."

"Come on," Laurens pleaded, stepping closer. "Jefferson's enough of a friend that I won't tell anyone."

Turning back to the computer, Maddison said, "I won't betray his trust. You either hear from him or not at all."

Even more curious, Laurens knelt down on the floor at Maddison's elbow, resting his chin on his arms on the desk. "Please, Madds? If I guess it will you tell me?"

"No."

"Is he a closet gay?" he asked regardless. "Does he wish he was straight?" Maddison didn't so much as glance at him. "Did he have a bad experience at a conversion camp?" Laurens made puppy eyes that went ignored. "Is he asexual?" He scooted closer. "Did he have a bad experience with relationships? Did someone he loved die?" Laurens stared up at the side of Maddison's unfazed face. "Does he… not know?" Maddison erupted in a coughing fit, turning away from Laurens, who stood up, shocked. "I was kidding, does he really not know? As old as he is, he doesn't know?"

Getting a hold of himself, Maddison turned back to Laurens and grabbed his arm, saying in a low voice, "Don't you dare start spreading rumors. Let him think on his own time."

With a sad smile, Laurens assured him, "I know what it's like to be questioning, I wouldn't interrupt that."

"That means no interfering. No trying to set him up, no steering him away."

"Madds, of course. I swear. I'll talk to Laf and see if he'll back off too."

It was the perfect excuse. Laurens didn't tell him why, but Lafayette agreed to let things happen without their influence. If what Maddison had implied was true, then there was no reason to worry. Things would work themselves out after all.

Jefferson and Hamilton had learned a few key pieces of information from the previous evening's work. Firstly, that Jefferson was quite a good dancer. Secondly, that Jefferson and Maddison were not the only ones to survive the attack on their agency. Maria Reynolds was alive and well, and seemed to be involved with a less than friendly group of people. Thirdly, that a small crown had appeared in two places that held secrets.

When they had showed the crown to Eliza, she had them wait for a moment. She dug through files until she found the quickly discarded file of the man they had recently bugged. She found the screenshot of what they had discovered. The man's new tattoo of a small crown on the back of his wrist. Jefferson held his phone with the photograph of the etched crown next to the screenshot of the tattoo. The two seemed to be the same.

"There's no way this is connected," Jefferson said. "It can't be."

Hamilton reached for his phone. "These aren't the only two, remember. There was the one in North Carolina too." He scrolled through his photos and showed Eliza the crown carved into the wooden door. "That makes two non-adjacent states it has shown up in."

Eliza looked at the three pictures. "Well, the chances that they are related are pretty slim. The shape is so simple, it could have come from anywhere."

"Three sightings in less than a year? Seems awfully suspicious," Hamilton said, moving his phone right next to Jefferson's for better comparison.

Jefferson glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. "Say it is a symbol then. For what?"

As he put his phone away, Hamilton told them, "It could be a number of things. It could be a new trade symbol for something. It could be part of a code of some sort. It could be a special symbol for a certain group of people."

"Or it could be some kid who likes to leave a mark everywhere he goes, but he chose something generic because he isn't that creative."

Eliza rested her hand on her cheek in thought. "Whatever it is, I don't know if we should worry about it yet. Maybe you could see if anyone else has seen it."

As she suggested, Hamilton and Jefferson split up to ask around. As could be expected, the presence of such a small detail was hardly memorable to one not looking for it, and no one recognized it outside of their three examples. Once they had met to share their results, Hamilton seemed to believe more than ever that it meant something.  
"Think about it," he said, kicking his feet up on his desk as he leaned back in his chair. "If you were trying to run some secret operation, wouldn't you want your secret indicator to be as common as possible?"

"It would get pretty difficult to know when it was the real deal," Jefferson argued between bites of macaroni.

"That's the brilliance of it though. It would throw other people off their trail, because some kids would think it was cool, and would go out leaving fake marks in completely irrelevant locations."

Rolling his eyes, Jefferson said, "No one is going to start copying some random thing they see. Kids have better things to do than make copycat graffiti everywhere."

Hamilton raised his eyebrows. "I forgot, you were a rich kid. Allow me to show you what real childhoods were like." He dropped his feet to the floor and picked up the nearest pen, and drew a series of straight lines on the side of a piece of paper, then showing Jefferson the little mark he had made.

Jefferson leaned in to see it better. "What is that, some kind of pointy 'S'?"

"Something like that. Somewhere, someone started drawing these, and before long, everyone was doing it." Hamilton turned the paper around to give it a judgmental look. "As far as I know, it doesn't mean anything. But that didn't stop us from drawing it."

"Drawing isn't really the word I would use to describe that," Jefferson muttered, leaning back in his chair again.

Hamilton put the paper and pen back on his desk. "The point is, kids don't need to know the meaning of something to go out and copy it. This crown is the same. It's simple enough that a young kid could learn to make it."

Jefferson rested his macaroni in his lap. "You're telling me that some big shot is relying on kids to help cover his trail?"

Hamilton held out his arms. "It's not unlikely. I would do it."

"You're not a criminal mastermind," Jefferson reminded him. "I still don't think I would trust you to keep my wallet safe, much less some big smuggling underground."

A sly smirk turned up the corners of Hamilton's mouth. "You don't know that I'm not a criminal mastermind. Maybe I'm just that good that I'm also my own double agent at the same time." Jefferson rolled his eyes, not buying it for a moment. "Another thing, how could they be coincidences? This crown has shown up in three distinct places, each when there was some kind of secret to be discovered. Not even small secrets either."

Jefferson held up his hand as he offered his argument. "A 'haunted' door would be a pretty good target for random graffiti."

Hamilton leaned forward with wide eyes, pressing his palms together. "That's the thing. The door wasn't painted over at all. So we can say that everything done to the door would still be very visible. But there was only one thing on that door."

"This crown," Jefferson said.

"Exactly!" Hamilton said, speaking more quickly. "No one would give it a second thought because like you said it seems like any other piece of basic graffiti. But someone who knows what it means would notice it. They would be able to communicate some piece of information right under everyone's noses. And with such a basic shape, imitations would spread, and would lead investigators down the wrong paths, because they would never know if it was a fake or if the secret just wasn't discovered yet at that symbol's location."

When he was sure Hamilton was waiting for a response, Jefferson said, "If that is the case, why haven't we seen one of these fakes yet?"

"Because we haven't been on an active hunt yet. As soon as we start looking everywhere for these, and not just in places where we already see suspicious behavior, we'll see fakes popping up everywhere."

Stabbing some more macaroni with his fork, Jefferson asked, "Have you told Washington about this theory yet?"

Hamilton nearly launched himself out of his chair to go report his thoughts, leaving Jefferson to enjoy his lunch in peace. Several minutes later, Hamilton came back with a smug grin.

"We have work to do," he said in a low voice as he leaned back against Jefferson's desk. "You and I get to go through all of our old files to find mention of the crown."

Jefferson looked up at his partner suspiciously. "When you say 'all our files'…"

Hamilton's grin grew. "Every file in this building."

"Oh good lord," Jefferson said under his breath.

Searching every file in the building made for a lot of tedious work which filled a lot of dull days. Since the crown had appeared both as a tattoo and as graffiti, all reports of missions and of persons of interest had to be searched, even if the person in question was dead. Much to Jefferson's relief, this agency was not as old as his past employer's, nor was it as large, so the sheer number of files was mercifully less than he originally thought. Nonetheless, it took several days of searching. One weekend passed, and another approached, the passing days only unique by the fading of Jefferson's black eye and the replacing of Hamilton's beard stubble. On Friday, Hamilton's impatience had reached its peak. They had been through almost everything, and yet it was obvious they wouldn't finish by the end of the day.

In the middle of the afternoon, Hamilton suddenly stood up, and Jefferson watched as he went to Washington's office with none of his files in his hands. When he came back, he said, "We're staying overnight tonight to finish this."

"Who said you got to decide for me?" Jefferson asked, turning his chair to eye Hamilton as he sat down.

"Washington's orders. We're staying overnight," he said, not looking back.

"You ass, you asked him from both of us?"

Hamilton spun his chair around and caught Jefferson's eyes with a very serious expression. "If we stay, we finish this tonight and get the rest of the weekend to not have to worry about it."

Jefferson resigned to that logic and turned back to his files. Both Maddison and Laurens stopped by before leaving, and wished them luck on their search. Jefferson glanced out the window as the city darkened. He got up to stretch his legs, wandering to the window to peer out. The clouds coming their way were a dark grey.

Time crept on. A flash of lightning lit up the city, and a muted distant rumble of thunder followed a few seconds later. Hamilton stood up and excused himself to the bathroom. Jefferson paid him little attention. Rain started pouring. Jefferson checked his watch, and glanced behind him. It had been a while since Hamilton had left. A few files later, Jefferson checked his watch again, and sighed. A dozen more files and Hamilton had still not returned. Jefferson tossed the last of the files on his desk and stood up, muttering to himself about certain people who suggest something unpleasant and leave it to others to do the work.

As he looked around for his missing partner, Jefferson amused himself with a bad impression of Hamilton. He poked his head in the bathroom and stopped short. Hamilton was facing the far wall, head in his hands, taking very intentional shaky breaths.

"Alex?" Jefferson said, not sure if he was seeing things correctly. "I thought you went home, are you… crying?"

Hamilton dropped his hands and turned his head slightly, clearly trying to sound tough. "You can fuck right off."

Jefferson pushed the door open more, saying, "Jesus, I just want to help, what happened?"

Hamilton turned sharply, pointing a threatening finger at him, though it was clear that he was shaking and fighting not to cry. "I'm not a child, and I don't need your help, so get the hell out of-"

A flash of lighting behind Jefferson cut him off, followed by an accompanying crash of thunder. Hamilton stood paralyzed by it. He slowly lowered his arm, unable to hold back his trembling or his tears. He stared at Jefferson for a few more moments, and looked away to the floor.

Jefferson watched this change with a dawning understanding. "It _is_ the storm."

"I'm fine," Hamilton said weakly.

Jefferson stepped into the bathroom, offering his free hand. "We can wait it out in the file storage room, it's far more secure there than here."

"I'm fine," Hamilton insisted, his voice cracking.

"I know."

Jefferson handed Hamilton his cane and put an arm around his shoulders. Hamilton clung to the cane as he let Jefferson lead him through the building to their file storage. As its heavy door closed behind them, Jefferson turned on the lights in the windowless room. Before the door could close, Hamilton caught it with his hand.

"I know you're going to blackmail the shit out of me on Monday, but for now could you just leave?" he asked, holding Jefferson's cane out to him. "I really don't have the energy to deal with you right now."

Jefferson took his cane back. "Alex, I'm not going to-"

"And stop calling me by my first name. It's weird."

Hamilton let the door go, and Jefferson caught it as Hamilton leaned back against the nearest filing drawers and slid to sit on the floor. Jefferson looked at the door in one hand, and then at his cane in the other. He let the door fall closed as he came to sit next to Hamilton. The closed door cut off almost all of the sound of rain.

"Didn't I just tell you to leave?!" Hamilton said as Jefferson joined him.

"Why don't we consider the facts," Jefferson said, his accent more pronounced as he laid down his cane beside him. "It's already nearly impossible to drive in this weather. I'm sitting here because it's the closest place to sit and quite frankly my leg is aching, due to the storm which is preventing me from going home." He looked over at met Hamilton's eyes. "It's a cycle of misfortune, really." As Hamilton watched, he shifted and pulled his phone and wireless headphones from his pocket. "So to make this night a little more bearable for me, I'm gonna have to ask you to take these."

Hamilton glanced back up at him. "These don't work with my phone."

"I'm your DJ tonight. I hardly get around to using it, but I have a playlist of calming music."

Since he was hardly in a position to question things, Hamilton raised a trembling hand and put the headphones in. He watched as Jefferson hit shuffle on his playlist and set his phone down. Serene piano music started playing in the headphones, drowning out the last of the rain sounds. Hamilton drew his legs to his chest and closed his eyes, and let time slip into nonexistence.

Waters rising. Struggling to escape. For every inch closer he got, the door moved a foot farther away. There was no way to reach it. He was trapped. Wind ripped everything away, leaving him surrounded in black. He turned around. His mother lay before him, dying. She reached out to him. Her hand fell limply onto the blankets. He tried to go to her. Her form changed. His cousin, hanging from the ceiling. Death doesn't discriminate. He fell backwards. Alone. No escape. When's it going to get me?

Hamilton woke up with a jolt, his heart racing. His eyes landed on the door, the filing cabinets, and Jefferson's feet. His mind registered the calm music in his ear as he turned to see that Jefferson was asleep. Hamilton checked his watch. 2 a.m. He sighed, and looked back at Jefferson. "Out of everyone, it had to be you, didn't it…"

Carefully, Hamilton stood up, and took the headphones from his ears, setting them quietly next to Jefferson's cane. There was rain outside, but it was barely audible. Hamilton silently willed Jefferson to stay asleep as he opened the file room's door and eased it closed behind him. He took a deep breath. The worst of the storm was over. As he made his way back to his desk, he silently reassured himself that things would be fine. He went over his list of things to pack. He realized that the busses don't run at such an ungodly time.

Standing under the overhang in front of the agency's front doors, Hamilton took deep breaths, telling himself that it was only rain, and that he could handle a few miles's walk. The door opened behind him, and he heard his name called. He turned to see Jefferson, who joined him outside and leaned on his cane, clearly having just ran to catch up.

"What are you doing?" Jefferson asked, catching his breath.

Hamilton looked back across the street. "Going home."

"Please tell me you realize the busses don't run this early?"

"I'm gonna walk."

Jefferson straightened up, gesturing down the road. "Don't you live miles from here?" Hamilton looked the other direction, ignoring him. "Come on, it's still storming. Do I need to remind you of what just-"

"It's _raining_ ," Hamilton corrected him, cutting him off. "And I'm not about to stay here all night."

Jefferson turned to face him fully, regarding him as if he were stupid. He leaned on his cane, his accent coming out again. "Did you forget that I have a car?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, I did, what are you getting at?"

Jefferson sighed, his accent even more prominent as he said, "Oh my god, I'll DRIVE you home. Washington would hang me out to dry if he found out I left 'daddy's favorite' here."

Hamilton straightened up and held his head higher. "Don't call me that!"

The distant sound of thunder stopped him from arguing further as he took a defensive step away from the rain.

Jefferson looked down at the wet pavement and back up to Hamilton, his voice calm. "You still really wanna walk?" Hamilton didn't answer. "I'll bring the car around. You can wait here if you want." He held out his cane, and Hamilton looked at it for a moment, before taking it. He held it tightly, backed against the agency doors, as Jefferson walked through the rain and parked his car in front of the curb a few minutes later.

In the warm and dry of the car, the radio played quietly. Most of the way through their trip, the rain slowed to a sprinkle, and stopped entirely.

"So…" Jefferson said with an awkward smile. "The rain finally cleared up."

Hamilton, who had been staring out the window, dropped his eyes to his hands in his lap. "It was nice of you to give me a ride home, but drop the act." Jefferson glanced at him for a moment. Hamilton sighed. "You know I'm not the best at formalities, so let's skip all that and get to the point." Hamilton reached over and turned the radio off. He sat in silence for a few more moments as he collected himself, and then began to speak.

"I don't know if you know that I'm an immigrant, but I am. I came from an island in the Caribbean called St. Croix." He paused to take a slow breath. "While I lived there, a hurricane came through and completely destroyed my town."

Jefferson glanced at him again. "Alex, you don't have to-"

Hamilton shook his head and continued. "The lightning and thunder isn't what I'm afraid of, like you thought. It's the water." He paused again, mentally skipping to the relevant details. "I was already an orphan when it happened. The building we took shelter in collapsed on top of me. I was trapped… for a long time. I don't know how long, but the water started rising, and I heard people wailing, and dying and…" he took a deep breath to stay calm. Jefferson kept his eyes fixed on the road. "Eliza is the only one who knows how I get during a storm." Hamilton looked out the window with an ironic smile. "I know now that you've found out it's just a matter of time before the whole agency does too, but… Please, just let me be the one to tell Washington. I should have already because it's a liability, but- God, I just-" He seemed to struggle to find words. "I didn't want him to see me as lesser, I-I didn't-"

"You didn't want his pity."

The words hung in the air for a few seconds. Hamilton looked back at his clasped hands. "Yes," he said quietly.

Jefferson nodded a little. "I know exactly how that feels."

They spent the rest of the drive in silence. "This is my stop," Hamilton said, pointing to a building up ahead. Jefferson pulled up to the curb in front of it, and Hamilton unbuckled his seatbelt. As he reached for the door handle, Jefferson stopped him.

"Hold on a second," he said, shifting the car to park and dropping his hands to his thighs. Hamilton withdrew his hand a little, and looked over at him. "I lost my leg about…" He made face as he considered it. "Almost three years ago? Huh, it's been a while. Anyways, when I came back to work, all I got was pity." He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Suddenly I was this delicate, sad excuse of a person, even though I could do the same things I did before." He rolled his eyes as he dropped his hands to rest on the steering wheel. "It was almost worse than the pain or anything else. It was so obvious that everyone saw me differently than before, and I hated it."

"How did-"

"That's why when James and I joined this new agency, I was… kind of glad, in a way. Obviously I wasn't glad to see everyone I worked with before dead, but… Well, the only ones who knew anymore were him, me, Washington, and Laurens. …And I suppose Maria Reynolds too… But then you found out, and I thought it was over for me." He looked over and met Hamilton's eyes. "And yet, with how much you seem to love the sound of your own voice, you didn't tell anyone. So I thought we could make a little deal."

Hamilton blinked at him. "What… kind of deal?"

Jefferson shrugged a shoulder and looked around them at the buildings nearby. "You don't tell anyone about my leg, I won't tell anyone what happened tonight. It's a simple concept, I don't think I need to spell it out for you."

"But you-" Jefferson met Hamilton's eyes with a raised eyebrow, and a new smile. This one was kind, understanding. Hamilton could feel his right hand longing for a pen and paper. Jefferson stuck out his hand. Hamilton looked at it, and exhaled a small laugh, taking Jefferson's hand and shaking it. "Deal."

Jefferson nodded a little, his smile growing. "Deal."

They held each other's eyes. Hamilton noticed again that Jefferson's eyes were that nice deep mahogany color. They seemed to draw him in closer. His heart was beating faster, but it felt different than the fear from before. He realized that he was squeezing Jefferson's hand when Jefferson started squeezing back. Glad to focus on something else, Hamilton did his best to crush Jefferson's hand as his own hand was crushed. Jefferson eventually conceded and let go with a small laugh.

Hamilton stepped out of the car, and bent down to eye Jefferson again through the open car door. "Drive safe on your way home, I'd hate to have to finish the files by myself."

Jefferson massaged his crushed hand with a grin. "I will, see ya Monday."

Hamilton closed the car door behind him and entered his apartment building as Jefferson drove away. He jogged up the stairs, feeling his face grow warmer as Jefferson's eyes came back to mind. As soon as his apartment door was closed behind him, he leaned back against it, and placed his eager right hand over his beating heart. He took deep breaths, expecting to feel his heart rate slow as he caught his breath, but his partner crossed his mind again, setting his heart's pace renewed. It was impossible to deny any longer. As soon as he found the words to begin writing, words became phrases and sentences faster than he could write them down. He wrote until he could write no more. His mind was quieted, but his heart wouldn't stay silent. He stood up, and thought of one more sentence, which he added at the end. 'I just hope he did make it home safe.'

Jefferson didn't turn the radio on as he crossed town. He would normally hum along as the music kept him company, but even the sound of his car's engine seemed loud enough. Time slipped by unnoticed. When he was in his apartment, surrounded at last by pure silence, his mind could no longer distract itself. He covered his mouth with a hand and begged for this to not be happening. Just as he was finally free of it, Hamilton just had to give him that look. That look of grateful understanding and appreciation. The same look Maddison had worn all those years ago. 'This will be different,' a small voice told him. 'This time, it's someone who is capable of reciprocating.' All the same, he knew it would only be worse. This time, he wouldn't be able to silence himself with a lack of hope. Hamilton's eyes seemed to be calling him, and he wanted to answer, but he still couldn't. Even if he might become helpless, he had to say no to this.


End file.
